The Redemption of George Hammond
by selmak
Summary: SG1 is transported into a nightmarish future where System Lord SelmakJake and his First Prime George Hammond are leading what remains of the Tau'Ri and Jaffa resistance in a war against the Goauld. Non-Con
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 1

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

* * *

"Carter, Dial Home!" Colonel Jack O'Neill roared to be heard above the rolling thunder. "That last lightning bolt was a little too close!"

"She is! But the line's busy!" Daniel shot back.

"Then pick another site!" He ordered, wondering why he always had to remind the Super Geniuses of the Obvious Solution. Didn't they remember his motto, **_Keep it Simple, Stupid?_**

Samantha Carter entered the coordinates, and pressed the center button. The chevrons lit up, and the gate opened while the team ran through, hoping for dryer weather.

They tumbled through the gate, grateful that it wasn't raining. Instead it was a warm night, with the stars brightly shining overhead. Jack looked upwards, and he appeared startled, "Where are we? The stars don't look quite right."

"We're at the Beta Site, Sir," Samantha answered.

"Jack…." Daniel's voice sounded worried, and Jack sighed, because every time Daniel sounded like that, things went directly to hell, do not pass go, do not collect 200.00.

"**_SILENCE_**! You will put your weapons down!"

The team, after doing a quiet mental count of the number of armored Jaffa surrounding them and quickly deciding that they were far too outnumbered for any type of counterattack, agreed. There was the sound of staff weapons being charged, and O'Neill sighed, as he automatically put his hands up. Being at the wrong end of a staff weapon happened far too often for his taste.

One of the armored figured walked up to O'Neill, and struck him across the face.

**_Hard_**.

"Do I owe you money?" quipped Jack, from the hard ground where he was inelegantly sprawled, as the amount of force used in the blow seemed to be rather excessive, which meant that he had probably pissed in this Jaffa's Wheaties at one time.

The armored figure mask opened to reveal a face that had changed significantly from the last time Jack had seen it only a few minutes or so ago. For starters, he had two bright blue eyes back then, while now he wore a patch over his left eye. His face was seamed with old scars, and he wore a rather fearsome scowl.

"**_GENERAL_** **_HAMMOND?"_** Jack gasped.

* * *

George Hammond blinked as though disbelieving the sight before him, and then he snarled. "O'Neill. My lord Selmak will be delighted to see you, and to discover where you have been these past few years.**_ JAFFA KREE_**! Bring him and the other males to the holding cell. I will let you know when you are to bring them before milord Selmak. Samantha, you will come with me, as I know that your father will be quite delighted to see you."

"System Lord Selmak? Jake's not gonna be happy to see us? What is this crap?" Jack questioned loudly before protesting when one of the Selmak's Jaffa attempted to place a staff weapon up his rear, "Jake always liked me! Besides, none of you have those cool little fancy Jaffa symbols on your forehead. What's the matter? System Lord Selmak ran outta ink for the stamp?"

Hammond glared hatefully at Jack, before he began laughing bitterly, "I truly look forward to you meeting System Lord Selmak, and I hope that he will allow me to watch your interrogation. Come now, we will take you to New Earth!"

They gated a few times, Hammond making sure that no one saw the addresses, but finally he announced that they were on New Earth. The team, with the exception of Samantha, was pushed and prodded along by Selmak's Jaffa until they stood inside a building. Samantha was allowed to remain free while each of her male team members' hands were restrained with plastic ties.

"You might recognize this place, it used to belong to a system lord by the name of Yu," George dryly informed them.

"I like what Jake's done with the place," Jack inserted helpfully. "The drapes, the flaming braziers in every hallway, just make me feel like I'm home. Did Martha Stewart help him pick out everything?

Hammond swung one beefy arm easily, and he caught Jack in the gut, hard. Jack promptly collapsed in a pile, bending his knees as he tried to ease the pain, somehow.

"Oh my God," Jack mouthed. "I think just he broke my kidney."

* * *

Samantha Carter was stunned when George separated her from her team, but even more astonished when he insisted that she freshen up before meeting her father. The grim Hammond had even looked **_embarrassed_** when he had requested her permission to search her to confirm that she was weaponless. He never looked embarrassed! She had never **_EVER_** seen him even flustered.

His search had been perfunctory but efficient, finding her assorted knives and various devices that could be used as a weapon.

"General Hammond," she protested.

"George… call me George, as I no longer hold that archaic position," George instructed. "I am the First Prime to Lord Selmak-Jacob. I am not a General anymore."

"George… I don't understand…" Samantha protested. "Everything's changed. My father's a **_System Lord?_**"

"System Lord Selmak has brought peace to a significant part of the galaxy," George informed her.

"The Tok'Ra didn't have anything to say about this? You're a First Prime and Selmak's using **_JAFFA_**?" Samantha questioned, her voice rising. "What about the Joint Chiefs of Staff?"

"Samantha, you have been away for a very long time, and you do not realize that milord Selmak does not like others questioning his decisions. But the Tok'Ra are no more. Neither are the Joint Chiefs," George informed her. "Now, go change, as your father will be quite delighted to realize that you are here. He has sorrowed greatly since he has last seen you."

* * *

A haunted Jacob Carter, Destroyer of Earth, Killer of Children and Grandchildren, sat on a throne that had once belonged to a System Lord named Yu, and he began counting his dead. Before Earth had been destroyed, when he had gotten depressed, Selmak had usually threatened to throttle him, sternly warning him that she would provide Symbiote Shock Therapy to him, but now Selmak was too busy maintaining her own Book of the Dead to notice what Jake did most of the time.

"Sam, Mark and his family, Jack, Daniel, Teal'c…." He began counting even as Selmak began sounding off her own Book of the Dead.

While he hadn't been responsible for the deaths of SG1, he still added them to his count. Maybe if he had searched harder, he would have at least found their bodies and brought them home for a proper burial.

"Tess… Kayla…" he counted, as both Selmak and he counted George's dead family among their kills.

Enough of that, it was time to start counting. It was his morning ritual. Every morning, he woke, changed and began naming his dead.

He grasped the heavily embroidered arms of the throne, and he squeezed hard. Sometimes, he could make it through the list on the first try, sometimes he had to start over as he had forgotten a name. Sometimes he made it through the entire list and realized that he had forgotten a name midway through. Fortunately, today he had forgotten someone in the early part of the list, so it wasn't that bad.

Who was it? Selmak gave him a gentle reminder and he sighed his heartfelt appreciation.

_**M'zel!**_

The Jaffa that had spoken to him so very long ago and had informed him that he didn't speak like the rest of the Tok'Ra.

Well not anymore, as he was the only Tok'Ra left as far as he knew.

Time to start again… "Sam, Mark, Jack, Daniel,…."

He was obsessive and compulsive about the list, as he **_had_** to finish the list. He had to remember who had died, because if he couldn't remember who he had killed, then how could anyone else?

* * *

Janet Frasier, Queen to Selmak and mate to Jacob Carter, was sitting in his lap, feeding him grapes. She did that sometimes when he needed a laugh. When the bitter darkness of old memories came upon him, and he turned his focus inward to face his demons head on, she tried to cheer and distract him. Sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his throne, while pretending to be a nubile Greek goddess feeding her hero peeled grapes usually made him laugh.

Not today.

"Am I getting too heavy for you?" She asked her lover in concern.

He looked at her, the fake grin plastered on his face, his supposed glee failing to mirror in his dark eyes, "No. You're not, and you never will be."

"Even when I'm out to here," Janet questioned, making a gesture that encompassed the entire universe. "And I ache, and I'm cranky."

"Never," Jake answered. "I'll let you sit in my lap even then, and feed me grapes."

Her mate rested his hand on her belly and he kissed her.

"Thank you for this," he said. "For the second chance I never thought that I'd have or that I deserved."

"Jacob, you'll be a wonderful father," Janet informed him, before kissing him. "What do you say, you and I go some place private, and I acquire some fresh Code of Life from you and Selmak for our next little batch of symbiotes."

"Your queen is ready again?" Jake questioned with a leer on his face.

"Well, you know she doesn't talk to me, thanks to the restraining collar which ensures that I'm in control all the time, but I'm thinking about sex **_again_**," Janet informed him in a very coquettish voice. "**_All the time_**, which usually means she's ready."

"You normally think about sex all the time, Janet," Jacob reminded his mate. "Not that I'm complaining, but you are very single-minded at times."

"But more so now," Janet pouted.

The two of them began kissing again, when someone interrupted them.

"Milord Selmak-Jacob, Milady Janet, your First Prime desires an audience with you," said the unlucky soul.

"Send him in," Jake growled.

"George… Again?" Janet pouted even as Jacob continued kissing her neck. "I swear he does this on purpose just because he hasn't gotten lucky in years… decades… **_centuries_**… You need to marry George off, so we can have some privacy, Jake."

Jake laughed and shook his head after he finish nibbling on her dainty neck.

"Let's see what George wants, and then you can acquire some fresh Code for your latest batch," Jake teased.

"Promise?" Janet questioned in her best little girl voice.

"I promise, as Selmak wants this to be the last batch until you have our baby."

The two of them began kissing again, their hands exploring all too willing flesh and they continued for some time until someone gasped.

"DAD? **_JANET_**?"

Jacob stopped kissing Janet, and he turned puzzled eyes onto his daughter. He picked up Janet, thanks to a boost in strength from Selmak, and he placed his pregnant queen on her throne. Then he walked down the steps, and he looked at George and then at his daughter. Jacob looked disbelieving at his daughter as though he was seeing a ghost, and then he shook his head.

"_**SAMANTHA?" **_

He held out his arms, as though afraid to hug her.

"SAMMY? You're **_ALIVE_**? Oh my God! You're **_ALIVE_**!"

"Yes," Samantha assured him.

To her surprise, her father hugged her tightly, even as he cried.

* * *

After Jacob regained his composure, Selmak took the forefront and quickly ordered a dinner for four to be prepared.

"Samantha Carter, it is a delight to see you again. Your father has missed you terribly, and he has much to update you on, including taking Janet as his mate."

Then Selmak let her father take over, and Jake shook his head in disgust.

"Blabber mouth Selmak just had to spill the beans on that little tidbit about Janet and me, but come, let's get comfortable," her father pulled her and Janet toward a secluded area, even as he ordered George to follow them.

Her father sat down, then much to Samantha's surprise, **_Janet curled up into her father's lap_**, and Jake smiled at her.

"Well, Janet and I came to an understanding, and she's having our baby," Jake explained.

"Oh…" Sam said, completely flabbergasted and rather sickened by that news.

**_Her FATHER and JANET? HAVING SEX? IIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLL. ICK!_**

"After you and your team disappeared, I was devastated as we all thought you were dead. We couldn't find your bodies or anything. Then everything went to hell, and Janet consoled me," Jake informed his daughter.

"Repeatedly," Janet purred. "We're having a little boy in six or so months. Then we hope to have a few more."

"Wait a second… SG-1 disappeared? I seem to be missing part of the story," Sam protested vainly, wondering if she had fallen through the looking glass into some sort of alternative reality. While her subconscious refused to even wrap itself around that idea as it was still screaming, **_"IIIILLLLLLL!"_** about her father's relationship with Janet, her conscious mind was busy sprouting various arcane mathematical formulas that could explain what happened.

**_EMC…ILLLLL… I'm gonna be sick…..Friction U Times n. The coefficient of the Time over Distance…. Oh my GOD, She's PREGNANT! My God! At his age! Having SEX! The amount of energy in a stable wormhole is directly proportional to the distance between Point A and Point B – possibly requiring a Point C would cause the Amount of energy to be expended to cube?… I'm gonna have a brother!..._**

**_

* * *

_**

"Milord Jacob," George began.

"George…how many times do I need to tell you to stop calling me that? Do I have to order you to call me Jacob? Good God man, you used to call me far worse than that," Jake teased George.

"Jacob, I did not inform her of what has occurred during the time she was gone," George explained. "I thought you'd like to explain it to her. I took the liberty of putting the rest of the team into solitary confinement so you can question them later without fear of their story being contaminated. It will be a lot less confusing for them if they get the truth from us. Don't worry, Samantha, I put them in very nice quarters."

"Yes, please. I'm confused. General Hammond is your First Prime; you're impersonating a System Lord? The Tok'Ra are gone? Please… somebody explain it to me," Samantha babbled.

"Well, it's pretty simple. Your team disappeared a few years ago, and since then everything's gone to hell. The Tok'Ra were annihilated as was Earth, so Selmak picked up the scattered pieces of the Resistance and began fighting like a Goa'uld, rather than a Tok'Ra. George is my First Prime as he's a tactical genius."

"You honor me excessively," George protested softly, as he nodded his head once.

"Bullshit, George. The only reason why Selmak has been as successful as he has is because of your tactics. Sammy, now that you're here, you'll help us, right?" Her father questioned her eagerly.

"Earth's **_annihilated_**?" Samantha questioned, her voice weak from surprise. "**_What_**?"

**_What was happening? My father looked utterly spent, as though only sheer force of personality was keeping him upright. His eyes were dead, as though shell-shocked by unspeakable horrors. He was far too thin, sitting in that damn throne. If I wasn't so scared for him, I'd laugh, as he's wearing BDUs. I've never seen a Goa'uld wear BDUs!_**

_**What happened to my father? What happened to General Hammond? **_

"I don't like talking about that, as the fight for Earth …" Jake paused, before continuing. "Required an unexpected sacrifice."

"God rest their souls," George mumbled softly.

"Yes, God rest their souls," Jake agreed.

"And Cassandra…didn't make it…" Janet explained softly.

"Cassandra's dead?" Sam gasped.

Janet's eyes were full of tears and she nodded. Jake rubbed her shoulder in a reassuring manner, and then Jake continued questioning his daughter.

"So, you'll help Selmak and me won't you? Help us fight the remains of the Goa'uld? I can have a lab set up for you in a few hours, and you can help us design weapons, for defense naturally."

Her father looked at her eagerly, his dark eyes suddenly alive with an unexpectedly intensity. She found herself agreeing to his request, and her father was delighted.

"What about the rest of SG1?" Sam questioned.

"I'll talk to them shortly, and find out if they're willing to help me, but for now, this is an auspicious moment. With you as my Director of Research and Development, George as my Tactical Guru and Janet as Selmak's Queen, producing batches of Symbiotes for Selmak's Super Jaffa, we're going to beat the Goa'uld once and for all!"

* * *

Jake laughed in delight, and Janet smiled at Samantha, who unexpectedly felt cold.

**_Janet was Selmak's queen, which meant that Sam's baby brother, would be a Harcesis! _**

Janet kissed Jake and then whispered something in Jacob's ear, which caused her father to smile broadly. It was an almost ghoulish smile, and Sam felt a chill run up and down her back.

"That's an excellent idea, Janet," he assured her. "I'm going to make a general announcement, that my daughter has returned to us, and that her marriage to George has taken place! Congratulations, Sammy, George."

"WHAT?" Sam shrieked, even as George looked at her.

For the first time ever, she saw George Hammond at a complete loss for words. At another time and place, Samantha probably would have been highly insulted as his complete lack of enthusiasm for the idea of marrying her. But now, she was glad that the level of his distaste matched her own.

"Sammy, it's for your own good," her father informed her. "I want you to be happy, and marrying George will be a good step in that direction."

"Dad," Sam protested. "I don't **_want_** to marry him."

"Sam," Janet purred from where she was sitting in Jacob's lap, her belly slightly distended with the unholy results of a mating of Goa'uld Pharaoh and his queen. "Your father and I want you to be happy; Jake and I know that George will treat you very well."

George Hammond remained mute and stone faced, wearing the uniform that denoted him as Lord Selmak's First Prime. He could have been a statue made of granite, for all the expression he showed.

"Sammy, you have lousy taste in men. Who do you want to marry? O'Neill? Please. He's so far beneath you it's laughable that you'd even be interested in him. Jackson? He's in love with his books and his Sha'ure. Teal'c has his eyes focused on his battle with the Goa'uld. While…George… George will treat you like a princess."

Her father reached for her, and she leapt backwards in a vain attempt to escape his touch. As expected, she found her way blocked by several Jaffa, for there was no way to wake from this unbelievable nightmare.

"Bring her here," her father continued, before ordering his Jaffa in Goa'uld. "Put her on the table, but gently. Sammy, you'll thank me later, I know you will."

Janet got off Jake's lap, and she walked toward Sam, "Sammy, we're going to be a family now. You, me, your father and George. Our babies will grow up together. Isn't that wonderful?"

"You're having a monster. A **_Harcesis_**," Sam spat.

"Don't be jealous of your baby brother, Sam. He's not a Harcesis," Janet insisted, as she stroked her belly possessively. "I conceived him before I became Jacob's Queen, and I made sure that I can have more of Jacob's babies later on without worrying about that little problem. I always wanted children of my own, and your father was quite delighted to oblige."

* * *

Sam was placed supine on a stone table, and she was quickly secured in a spread eagle fashion. Janet smiled down at her, and then she unbuttoned Sam's shirt partially and unzipped her pants.

"George, don't look. You'll have to wait for your wedding night, you bad boy, you." Janet cooed, as she opened her shirt before lying on top of Samantha.

There was a burning sensation, and Sam tried to escape from the pain that seemed to want to tear her in two. While Samantha shrieked in pain, she looked for allies desperately and she found herself staring into George's blue eye. There was the slightest twitch in his scarred cheek and he swallowed reflexively.

**_Oh My God. General Hammond's in there. The Real General Hammond's there. _**

Then it was over, and her father walked over to her, holding a wiggling, squiggling symbiote that one of his Jaffa had given him. Carefully, he helped Janet off the table, and he smiled down at his daughter.

"You'll thank me for this later. Everything I ever did for you was for your own good, kid. When this symbiote is matured, you'll be given a Queen Symbiote, and George will be your Pharaoh. But it won't be for a few years, so you and George can enjoy married life. Maybe you can have a few kids. I'd like to have grandkids," Jake admitted, as he carefully separated the lips of her womb and placed the symbiote inside of her.

The symbiote wiggled its way inside of her, and she tried not to cry, but she knew that she failed when she tasted salt.

"George, she's overwhelmed with happiness. I knew she'd be delighted after she got over the surprise. Sammy, I figured I'd give you one of Selmak's symbiotes right away, to make sure that you're in perfect health. But for now, I'll let you two talk for a bit, and then later tonight, we'll plan the wedding. I love you, Sammy, and I'm glad that George will make you happy, like you deserve to be."

Sam watched as her father… and her stepmother… walked away from her. The two of them appeared eager and willing to consummate their relationship in front of her, and she closed her eyes. The ropes were untied from her arms and her legs, someone was helping to her to sit up, and George was then carefully wrapping her in his soft cape. Not wanting to be comforted by her father's First Prime, she still found herself leaning on him for physical support.

"Go – I wish to be alone with my intended," he rumbled to his guards. "Attend the other prisoners and ensure that they do not escape."

_**Prisoners? I thought they were honored guests!**_

"The pain will ease shortly," George whispered in her ear. "The first few minutes are the worst, and then, it's not that bad."

"Not so bad," she said, trying hard not to scream. "Not so bad… I have one of those… things… inside of me… and in a few years… I'm going to be the host for a queen…."

"You'll still be you, I promise you. Janet has free will, as does your father. Lord Selmak is not as harsh as other Goa'uld. He has brought peace to the universe," George informed her.

"The peace of a zat," Sam protested.

* * *

George escorted her to another room where she and the rest were to have a nice, family dinner. Her father was sitting at the head of the table, and Sam faced down the system lord that wore her father's face. She clutched her belly, still terrified by the monster that she carried.

"I will not marry him," she swore. "You can kill me, and I will not marry him."

"George, I'm sorry, Sammy's being so overly dramatic. She probably wants a nice, romantic proposal from you, and you didn't do it," Jacob informed his First Prime. "**_Children_**."

George Hammond wore an unreadable mask on his face, and he nodded his head once.

"I have an idea, Jacob," Janet giggled, as she whispered her idea into Jake's ear.

"That's a wonderful idea," Jake laughed. "George, get ready to go down on your knees, and propose to my daughter. But first. JAFFA! KREE!"

Jake spit out several nasty sounding words and the guards ran off to do his bidding. They quickly returned with Teal'c, O'Neill and Daniel. O'Neill was being dragged by two guards, while Daniel staggered gracelessly into the room. The three of them where quickly surrounded by Jaffa and the sound of staff weapons being powered up filled the silence in the room.

"If you don't stop embarrassing me in front of George, Sammy, I'm going to have them killed," her father informed her in his **_"I'm doing this for your own good, Samantha Margaret Carter_**" voice. "Now, George, go ahead."

George nodded once, and then he got down on one knee and took Samantha's limp hand into his large hands. He looked up at her; the eye piece that covered his left eye giving him an alien cast to his familiar face.

"Samantha Carter, will you marry me? I can offer you nothing but my sincerest promise to treat you as you deserve," he informed her in his typical no-nonsense Texas style.

"Yes," she whispered, fearing what would happen to her team if she refused.

"What?" O'Neill and Daniel shrieked. "She's getting married to **_HAMMOND_**?"

The universe was spinning on its axis, she couldn't think, didn't know what to do, so she did something that would have normally filled her with absolute disgust.

She fainted dead away.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 2

Author: Selmak

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

Synopsis: SG1 has gone ahead in time approximately eight years, and the future ain't pretty. When we last left Samantha Carter, she's been separated from SG1. Her father, despairing of her ever meeting a nice guy and settling down, has decided to turn her into a Jaffa and marry her off to his System Lord's First Prime, Jacob Carter's good friend, George Hammond.

We return to our story as Samantha is waking up after collapsing in a dead faint due to her unbelievable happiness about finally getting married.

Least, that's what her dad thinks.

* * *

When she woke up, she was in an infirmary, Janet was bustling back and forth and Sam looked warily around her. Her father was standing next to George, and they were conversing softly. Hesitantly, with shaking hands, she explored her belly, feeling the incised X with a renewed sense of horror.

**_I am Jaffa. I am carrying a Goa'uld larva in my belly of System Lord Selmak, my father's symbiote. In time, I will be implanted with a Queen Symbiote. George Hammond will be my Pharaoh and I will produce broods of Symbiotes for Selmak's army._**

Her stomach rolled and she began to gag as she relived her terror when Jolinar had taken her as a host unwillingly. To her surprise, George reached her quickly, assisted her in sitting up even as Janet forced the yellow "yuck bucket" in front of her. As she hurled lunch, breakfast and whatever else was in her rolling stomach, she realized that George was rubbing her back.

_**Oh… wasn't that sweet… he was trying to be comforting… **_

"George, I'm afraid this isn't going to be much of a wedding night," Jake commented dryly.

"Well, it's not because she drank too much," George drawled. "It's been a rough day for the poor girl."

"See, Sammy, I told you George would treat you well," her father said in a very loud whisper.

Sam nodded her head in tired agreement.

"Does she need to stay? I'd like to take her home." George questioned.

"Yes, but since her womb is rather new and she had an adverse reaction, you'll have to medicate it," Janet explained. "Sam, lie on your back, so I can show George what he was to do."

She was going to protest, but then George put his large hands on her shoulders, and pushed her gently onto her back. She began trembling in fear when she realized that it was his hands that were unbuttoning her shirt and unzipping her pants ever so slightly. Then he placed his large, surprisingly cool hands on her belly, and she felt the symbiote within her recoil at the pressure from his touch.

"It's rather warm and swollen," George pointed out to Janet.

"I know," Janet said tartly. "I'm a doctor, remember?"

"He's just concerned, Janet," Jake reminded his Queen. "Don't blame him for that. Others wouldn't care, so George's concern for my daughter is greatly appreciated."

"George, I'm going to give you some medications. Every two hours for the next 48 hours, you need to put these three medications into the womb. Then you need to massage this over the incision."

George repeated the instructions verbatim and then he carefully spread the lips of Sam's symbiote womb apart to medicate her and then he gently massaged her belly.

Then, she found herself being kissed by both her father and Janet before being handed over to George like a trophy. Apparently, she had missed her wedding when she had blacked out, so she didn't get a piece of cake, either.

* * *

Her… husband… led her to his "place", which turned out to be suite of rooms that were in the palace but away from the main section. He whistled and snapped his fingers, and Sam heard a deep answering "woof" from inside the door.

"That's Austin, one of my alarm systems," George then paused and then placed his palm on a non-descript gray panel.

The door opened, and then he turned to face Samantha. "I suppose I should carry you over the threshold."

He swooped her off her feet even while she was protesting, and he carried her over the threshold. Austin barked loudly until George whistled at him again, and the large black and tan dog settled down after sniffing her.

"I'm afraid that I didn't realize that I was getting married today," George informed her. "I would have cleaned the place up."

"It's fine," Samantha assured him, even though it appeared that every single square inch of space in the outer rooms was covered in books, charts, crystals, armor and other war related paraphernalia. On the wall there was one single, large picture that took up almost the entire wall. It was of Earth, and George had scrawled on the picture, "**_Always Remember Earth!"_**

On one desk there were assorted pictures and Sam realized that they were of George's family. He and his wife were in one photo, and there were numerous pictures of his grandkids. She remembered meeting them a few months… (years?) previously at his Memorial Day BBQ, and she realized that George didn't have any more recent photos of them.

George continued carrying her through the suite, until he reached the bedroom. There was a large bed, with the covers turned down, and he placed her gently on the bed. If he tried anything, Sam wasn't sure if she could stop him. He outweighed her, and she was still feeling enervated from her … **_Prim'ta_**.

Even while she was attempting to regain her strength for at least one feeble attempt at self-defense, trying to find some object to use as a weapon of defense, she found herself plaintively whispering, "Please…. Don't….I'm begging you…" when he began undressing her.

Where was her strength? Why couldn't she resist?

_**Was it the medication?**_

"Easy, Samantha, I'm just getting you undressed so you can sleep. I'm going to take your clothes and give them to one of the seamstresses here, so they can get you something to wear for a bit. When you're feeling stronger, then I'll see about getting you a real wardrobe," George assured her.

His hands continued to undress her, and then she couldn't look at him when his hands were undoing the top three buttons on her shirt.

"Don't cry," he whispered. "I'm not going to force myself on you. You know I wouldn't do that to you, Samantha. Your father gets these ideas in his head, and as his First Prime, I have to decide what battles are worth fighting. If everyone thinks that you're my wife, I can protect you."

His hand was underneath her back, lifting her slightly so he could pull her pants off her.

"You had an adverse reaction to becoming a Jaffa. It's rather rare when something like this occurs, as most reactions cause instantaneous death. That's why you're so exhausted and weak. I'm going to medicate you again, and then I'll leave for a bit. I'll have the alarms on and Austin will be here, so you can't leave. Promise me, you'll stay in bed, Samantha."

She nodded her head once. She'd stay in bed until her strength returned, and then… she would try to escape.

George kissed her once on her forehead, and then he placed his hands on her face.

"Some wedding night, eh? Samantha, you've been gone for far too long, and your father has changed. In time, you'll realize that are far worse things that could have happened to you then being married off to a tired, old man who's fighting a war he can't possibly win."

She tried to smile, but failed.

**_On my first day of my capture, I was turned into a Jaffa and married to my Commanding Officer,_** she thought.

Sam was so exhausted by the implantation of her symbiote and all else that had occurred, she quickly dozen off to sleep. During the night, she'd rouse slightly when George medicated her, but soon she was back asleep.

* * *

The next morning, she woke and realized anew that the past few hours had not been a nightmare. George was at his desk, obviously deep in thought and Austin, a rather large Rottweiler, who easily outweighed her, was sitting on the floor next to the bed, looking up at her with soulful eyes.

**_There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home_**, she whispered, wishing that she'd wake up, and she really WAS home.

**_I can do this. I have to do this. I will survive. I'll have access to the labs and I can find a way home. I know I will. I can save the team. I can survive. I will survive. Then when we get home, not IF, I will go on Tretonin. _**

_**This man is not the General. He is GEORGE, not General Hammond. **_

She wrapped a sheet around her, hoping that George didn't get too much of a peepshow, and she continued exploring until George pointed out where she could change. There was a rather simple shirt and pants outfit hanging in the room, and she realized that she was supposed to wear it.

"Least you'll cover everything," she thought.

Samantha was amazed how tired the act of simply changing her clothes made her, and she didn't protest when George suggested that she lie down again.

"I have to medicate you again anyway," he advised her. "Janet stopped by while you were sleeping and she changed your medication. It's going to be once a day for the next few weeks."

While his hands were spreading the still raw lips of her symbiotic womb apart, she stared at the ceiling.

**_This is no worse than getting a pap smear by a male doctor. You just stare at the ceiling, counting the dirty ceiling tiles. Take a deep breath or three, and it will be over, shortly. This is not General Hammond. This is George. Not the General. _**

"Take a deep breath," George informed her. "I have to apply something to help those lips heal. They're still a little sore, I see."

She bit her lips to prevent herself from crying out in discomfort, as he put his large hand inside her womb in order to coat it with a numbing gel.

**_Just like a pap. I always get the Air Force doctor with hands the size of gorilla. _**

"Easy, easy, inhale slowly," he rumbled. "Almost done. Now I'm going to put this tagaderm dressing over it so you can shower and bathe now."

Another wave of lassitude overwhelmed her, and she had one coherent thought before she fell asleep again.

**_Are they drugging me to make me more complacent?_**

**_

* * *

_**

She woke again, and she found that Austin was sitting in bed with her, and George was nowhere to be found. Samantha called for him, and then she tried to sit up, but Austin growled a low, deep growl.

_**Alrighty then, I'll just lie here, and hope I don't need to go the bathroom anytime soon.**_

"So, Austin, come here often?" She questioned inanely.

The dog gave her a long look before falling asleep again. She attempted to make her escape, but the dog had rolled onto his back, and had landed on her legs.

Fortunately George showed up after a bit, and he whistled loudly.

"Austin. Off the bed! I've told you before; you can't sleep on the damn bed."

The Rottie got up, looked at his owner, and then jumped off the bed with a rather loud thud.

"Come on, Austin, I need to introduce you to Samantha. Sit up, Samantha, I need to introduce you to Austin, that way you won't have any problems with him. Had a couple Ashraks try to knife me when I was getting my beauty sleep, but fortunately he can sense an Ashrak twenty miles away. Austin, give me your paw."

The dog sat down and extended his heavy paw. Samantha put her hand gingerly on the very large paw, and she let the dog sniff her scent.

"This is Samantha. Austin, Samantha, Austin. Austin, you treat her like lady and I'll be happy with you."

Hammond rubbed Austin's face affectionately and the dog appeared delighted, wagging his rear end for all he was worth. George gestured to the dog, and the dog jumped back on the couch even as Hammond laughed.

"George?" Sam questioned, stumbling over his name, and remembering her vow to not think of this man as General Hammond just in time. "What happened to the rest of SG1? Why did you hit O'Neill?"

George barked a laugh.

"Oh that, actually I was attempting to sucker punch O'Neill, but he stepped into it. After all the shit he's put me through over the years, I thought turn about was fair play. Do him good to be scared shitless for once, after all he's the reason why I'm bald. Kept pulling my hair out due to the stunts he pulled."

"My father threatened to kill them if I didn't marry you," Sam pointed out.

"Jake's sense of humor has gotten really warped over the years. Don't worry, he wouldn't have hurt them, he was pulling O'Neill's leg."

**_Funny, I didn't think Dad was joking_**, she thought.

"What happened to them?" she asked.

"Jake talked to them. They agreed that they would help us out, as we need their help, Samantha. I don't think there's anyway to get you four home; and we can really use Dr. Jackson's linguistic ability and Jack and Teal'c's military experience."

She felt another chill down her spine. They wouldn't have given up on going home so easily, and Hammond's swing hadn't been a sucker punch, it had been a solid blow that had landed on O'Neill's face. If O'Neill hadn't stepped back in time, he would have lost teeth. And George had hit O'Neill twice, the last blow causing the Colonel to fall to the ground in severe pain.

"Where are they? Are they still here on the Beta Site?"

"No, they stopped by to see you, but you were still sleeping, and they didn't want to wake you. They'll be in contact with you. Let me make someone for you to eat. Your father says that you don't cook," George said diplomatically.

"**_Can't_** cook," she automatically answered.

"I can, so I'll be taking care of the meals."

* * *

George gave her a quick run down of the location which was now called New Earth. It was populated mainly by Terrans who had escaped from Earth plus assorted "liberated" Jaffa. Selmak's Jaffa were predominately made up of military personnel that had escaped from the SGC.

"Selmak doesn't treat us like property, so that's why we don't wear his emblem, though he put a little squiggle on O'Neill's forehead, for old times' sake. O'Neill called him a headsnake once too often, so Selmak decided to get even," George explained before barking a loud laugh. He then slapped his gut with one hand, "I have one of Selmak's first symbiotes in my pouch… I refuse to call it a womb, as I'm good Texas boy, and we don't have wombs. Siler has one of Selmak's first symbiotes, as does the Davis boys, Paul and Walter."

"Where did you get the Tok'Ra Queen that's inside Janet?" Samantha questioned. "I thought they didn't have any queens."

"The Asgard cloned one from Egeria. It wasn't a perfect clone as Egeria's cells had deteriorated by the time you found her on Panger, so as your father calls her, she's a dumb blonde clone, begging your pardon," George's Texas twang was rather pronounced. "It can produce little symbiotes, but they're blank slates. They're smart enough to keep their hosts in top condition and all that, but they can't take over the host's body. I prefer it that way, I don't mind something helping me stay in tiptop shape, but I don't want them running my life."

"Janet agreed to be Jake's queen a few years ago, and she's been spawning symbiotes right and left. She had frozen her eggs or something, so she could have kids with your father. I don't really know exactly what they did, as it was far too much information for me, but Selmak's assured me that your brother's DNA has just Janet's and Jacob's DNA and that he didn't get involved in the process. I find hard to believe, as he's a right nosy son of a bitch at times. He likes to match make as you have found out to your complete horror. But he's honest, so I have to trust him."

"A few batches ago, they had a queen symbiote spawned, born, produced whatever you want to call it, and she needs to grow up before she can start producing more symbiotes. She's in her own little tank, and when she's old enough, you'll meet her."

"Yes, that's where I come in," Samantha inserted with a slightly less than thrilled tone.

"And me, apparently," George rolled his eyes.

* * *

George took her shopping, and then she realized again, first hand, that he looked like General Hammond but he wasn't the same man. She was looking at a scarf of some type, more of an excuse to focus on something besides George, when someone pushed her. Instinctively, she reached for her wallet, and she realized that it was gone.

Not that it mattered, as the money wasn't worth anything here, but there were certain pictures in it that were irreplaceable. Her father and mother on their wedding day, Mark and his wife and their children, a few friends.

To her surprise, George grabbed the man by his throat with one hand. He then slammed the man hard against the stone wall with an audible cracking of bones, even as he searched the man for Sam's wallet.

"Samantha, is there something here you'd like?" George questioned, even as he kneed the man hard. "Here, I found your wallet. Do you want anything? That scarf would look nice with your eyes."

"George, please, don't do that," Samantha requested. "I'm fine. He didn't take anything from my wallet."

The thief's eyes were rolled back in his head, his breathing was a loud gurgling wheeze and his face was turning a dark shade of purple, even while George's hand tightened around his throat.

The security guards showed up, and Samantha recognized them as older versions of MPs from the SGC that she had once known. They seemed leery of interrupting George who was slowly strangling the man against the stone wall. The man was continuing to struggle against George, his feet beating a tattoo against the wall which slowed and faltered.

"How about this one, Samantha?" George questioned, as he handed her a dark blue scarf made of burntout velvet with his free hand, even as he continued to asphyxiate the thief with this other hand.

It was almost as though he had forgotten what he was doing, even as the thief made one final kick before his body relaxed into death. George then dropped the body with an almost indifferent shrug of his shoulders before wiping his hands off on another scarf. Carelessly, he dropped the scarf on the dead body as he walked over it.

"Do you want that scarf, Samantha? I think it will go nicely with your eyes."

"It's lovely," she agreed softly.

"I'll get it for you then, wait here," he told her.

"Wouldn't think of leaving," she confessed. Well actually she had thought about running like the hounds of hell were after her, but where could she go, honestly?

"Great," George said, as he stepped over the dead body again, as though it wasn't there.

She stood there, smiling shakily, realizing that there was easily a ten foot circle around her as no one wanted to even accidentally jostle her. One of the MPs looked at her, and then his eyes widened when he realized who she was.

"Ma'am? I understand that you're married to the First Prime?" He questioned softly.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Don't get him mad, whatever you do. Don't get him mad."

**_On the second day of my capture, my husband killed a man with his bare hands, and then he bought me a pretty blue scarf because he thought it matched my eyes_**, she thought, trying not to scream.

* * *

As the days passed, she and George made a truce. George did all the cooking, like he promised, though his taste ran to the fiery. Sam got the bed all to herself; he got the couch and the dog, Austin. He never pressed the issue of sleeping with her, and she continued to experiment in her lab about finding ways to get her home.

Sooner or later, she'd find the way home. She'd hear from her team and she'd let them know that she was working on a solution. Probably the lightning bolt had caused an overflow of electrical energy into the Stargate… O'Neill had said the stars looked wrong, and she had confirmed that the chronological date was slightly more than eight years in the future that her mission date had been. Now, it was just a matter of finding how to go back without any advance knowledge of a solar flare.

Like her father promised, she was put in charge of the labs, much to the annoyance of Rodney McKay, who had been acting chief for so long, he thought he ran the place. Boris Zelenka, a bird-like Czech, had seemed relieved that McKay was no longer acting chief.

Sam had been surprised to find Walter Davis and Sly Siler in her lab when she had arrived the first day. But not as surprised as they were.

"You're the First Prime's wife?" Davis blurted. "We were told that we were going to have to assist her…"

"Yes," Sam admitted slowly.

Siler whistled silently, and he froze when he realized that Samantha was staring at him.

"Congratulations," he said in a very cheerful voice.

"Yes…" Davis said after looking at Siler warily, "**_Congratulations_**. We were wondering why George was wearing an ear to ear grin these days."

Siler looked back at Davis and then at Samantha, "And now we know."

She smiled again, and returned to calibrating her equipment.

"We were wondering why George was wearing an ear to ear grin?" she heard Siler mockingly hiss to Davis.

"I thought he killed somebody. It always seems to perk up his mood when he kills someone," Davis whispered back. "I didn't realize that he got **_married_**. And how about you, you congratulated her. It's like congratulating Bambi for marrying Darth Vader! I'm surprised that he hasn't put her in ICU yet."

"Poor girl," Siler mouthed.

The two looked guilty when they realized that she was watching them. She continued to smile, so they wouldn't realize that she had overheard them.

"Just talking about football, Ma'am."

"I didn't realize that they had football on the Beta site," Samantha admitted.

"We don't, that's why we're talking about it," Siler admitted.

* * *

After she "married" George, she didn't sleep for more than a few hours a night. It was partly due to stress, but mainly her lack of sleep was due to George. Normally, George wasn't the most loquacious of men, usually thinking deeply and weighing each side before jumping in with his opinion.

He still wasn't very talkative during daylight hours, mainly limiting it to small talk unless they were discussing one of Jake's projects and interim strategy, but after the sun went down, George became very gregarious. He thought nothing of waking her up in the middle of the night to talk, and at first, Samantha was exhausted and annoyed.

Then she realized why he was so chatty.

His dead walked his dreams and so he never slept. And since she was 'married' to him, he would talk to her about the various campaigns he had led since Earth had fallen.

"You know, Samantha, Goa'uld aren't that hard to kill. You need to hit them a little harder," he said, before punching his fist **_hard_** into his other hand to demonstrate his point, "And they died, just like everyone else. Yu trembled when he met me, did I tell you that?"

"No," she lied. He had told her that story and countless other atrocities repeatedly during the long nights when he couldn't sleep.

"Yes, he was sitting on that throne, that god awful throne of his, and Selmak, Jacob and I entered the room. He was alone, as most of his Jaffa had fled, and he trembled when he saw us. He was **_senile_**, Samantha." George spat that.

"**_SENILE_**, and he thought we were his personnel, his retainers that thought him a God, so he was easy to kill. But we made sure he knew that Selmak, Jake and I were there before he died. He screamed and cried when he realized that he was dying."

George laughed bitterly, and shook his head. "A Goa'uld sobbing…. Begging us for mercy, so we gave him mercy… more mercy than Earth ever got. We pushed him near the very brink of death, and brought him back, and we hurt him some more…. And brought him back. **_Over and over again while he screamed for mercy_**. Just like Ba'al had done to O'Neill."

"We got even for O'Neill, Samantha, aren't you glad?" George gave her a smile, his eye not completely sane. "Now, we've just got to get Ba'al."

"Yes," she lied. "I'm so glad you did that for him."

* * *

Inwardly, Samantha cried every night for the two men she had once known and whose souls had been overcome by darkness even while she grew more and more determined to find a way home.

God, she had no one to talk to, as she couldn't trust her **_stepmother._** Janet had married her father **_willingly_** after the fall of Earth.

Eventually, Samantha grew accustomed to having a male in her bed.

It wasn't that bad, as he was big, warm and rather endearing in a threateningly cute sort of way. He didn't take up more than his half of the bed, and he never stole the covers from her, but Austin did have stinky dog breath, and he delighted in licking her face. He also rolled over on his back and snored when he slept.

George would always order Austin out of her bed when George found the dog there, but during George's infrequent catnaps, Austin would leave George on the couch and snuggle next to Samantha. Then George would wake up, and remind Austin that he wasn't supposed to sleep there.

The Rottie was a sweet dog, Samantha admitted to herself. He was always happy to see her, and always greeted her gleefully when she came home. He never jumped on her or barked excessively, he was just Austin.

Big, solidly dependable yet endearingly goofy Austin.

To be honest, she was more afraid of George than she was of Austin.

* * *

One night she was sleeping in her bed when she heard a strange noise. She woke up, instinctively reaching for a weapon, but then she was blinded by bright lights. George then yelled a command in Goa'uld, and she heard a deeply, rumbling growl. It was Austin who was attacking whoever was in the room. George was fighting also, and her hand found a weapon of defense. It was heavy, made of glass and it fit well in her hand.

When the two came for her, she broke the bottle in one's face, even as she launched herself at the other fighter, as the attackers would pay a heavy price for attacking her.

* * *

Blood streaming down the side of his face, his arm hanging useless at his side, George was trying to cradle Austin in his lap. The dog was bleeding from a gaping wound in his side; and a shell-shocked George had one hand pressed down on the wound, trying to stop the spurting blood. Samantha watched silently as George tried to soothe the injured dog.

When he had found out that she had nary a scratch on her, he had focused completely on Austin. The dog had been savagely injured by the Jaffa, and George was rocking the dog while he hummed softly.

Even though he was grievously injured, the dog just licked George's hand and whimpered softly.

"George, we're going to put you in the sarcophagus. Let go of the dog," Jake said quietly.

Her father had gotten to the room shortly after the attack, and Samantha tried not to look at the piles of flesh that once were proud Jaffa warriors before the angry Selmak had attacked them. The mounds were still alive, but barely, and her stomach rebelled as she remembered how **_quietly_** and efficiently Jake and George had turned the tables on the assassins. The only noise had been the harsh pants of exertions, and the cries of pain from the attackers.

"You gotta save him, Jake. It's the only goddamn thing I have left from Earth. You got to save him," George insisted.

"George, Selmak doesn't know much about dogs. Let go of him, and I'll take care of him," Jake repeated.

"Promise me, promise me, promise me. My grandkids loved this dog, so promise me, you're not going to let him die," George ordered. "He helped save Samantha's life just now, you owe him. You owe him; God knows that **_YOU… OWE… ME!"_**

That was voiced in a near scream, and still George refused to let go of the dog.

Her father of the haunted eyes and the stone face smiled slightly. "I promise, George. I'll take care of your puppy. He's a really nice puppy."

* * *

Later: 

"Jaffa," George growled. "Goddamn Jaffa."

"Samantha and I had questioned them while you were in the tank," Jake informed him. "We've got a lot of information to share with you."

The "tank" was a sarcophagus and both George and the dog had been placed inside it. Austin was still inside it, as his condition was grave. George had exited the sarcophagus a changed man, as George was now openly displaying his unholy rage for everyone and everything and he looked at her with lust in his eye.

The thought of George touching when he was like that made her blood run cold.

"They tried to kill your daughter, Jacob, I can't let them get away for it." George growled at Jake who quickly agreed.

"George, don't worry, we'll get the bastards that ordered this attack. Fortunately, our old friend Master Bra'tac is here," Jake informed George. "For some reason, he didn't come visit us. It's a shame, when old friendships and old loyalties fade."

George nodded his head.

"Do you want to tell George what we saw on the Memory Recall Device?" Jake asked his daughter. "You shouldn't get hurt so much, George, you miss all the excitement. Come on, Sammy, tell George what we saw. Guess who ordered the attack against us? Guess, George, **_guess_**?"

Jake clapped his hands delightedly like a child with a new toy, as he prompted George to guess.

The First Prime of Selmak laughed softly, "Three guesses, all of them our dear friend, Master Bra'tac. Is that correct, Samantha?"

"Bra'tac ordered the attack," she whispered.

"I thought we had talked to him, Jacob," George questioned in a very low voice.

"Apparently, he didn't listen. Regretfully, I should have killed the old man then, but that's ok, we can take care of it right now. It's cancer, George, you need to burn it out when you first find it, or else it will spread," Selmak commented. "We will now cauterize the malignancy in our midst."

"Bring in the Shol'va!" Selmak ordered with a roar.

Samantha looked at her father, who was sitting in the throne, his Symbiote in complete control over him. Her father's eyes were full of madness, and she hung her head.

**_Oh, Selmak, what happened? What happened? Dear God, what happened? Bra'tac?_**

**_

* * *

_**

Bra'tac was escorted in by a sept of security personnel, and he nodded once to George, Selmak-Jacob and then he turned to face Samantha. His goatee was white, and he looked significantly older than she had last seen him. His eyebrow arched in surprise, and the Jaffa Master fondly smiled at her.

"You **_live_**?" He questioned softly. "I was told you died. I had mourned you as if my own daughter had died."

She nodded even as Selmak muttered, "She's feeling much better now, Bra'tac."

"You **_must_** stop this madness! Your father's insanity spreads across the universe like a plague," Bra'tac shouted. "I did not order your death! I did not order an attack against **_you_**."

George walked up to Bra'tac and he hit the Jaffa Master hard in the gut. Bra'tac crumpled in pain, even while the security team was bringing him back to his feet. George grabbed Bra'tac's head and he pulled him closer.

"You ordered one against me and my wife," George informed him. "Some things are unforgivable, old man, and that's one of them."

Bra'tac then looked at Samantha and his kind eyes were filled with horror.

"You are married to Hammond of Texas?"

She nodded her head, and then he smiled sadly.

"I did not know you had married him," Bra'tac said in a very soft whisper. "I would not have sent them against **_you_**."

In a stronger voice, "Very well, Selmak of the Tok'Ra, you know my concerns. You use my people as cannon fodder."

"I don't know what happened to the Jaffa. For years, we tried to convince them of individual self-worth when they kept throwing millions of their lives away in their campaigns. Now that we've agreed to use them like they wanted to be used all along, they turned COWARDLY," Selmak roared as he threw his hands up in the air to express his disgust.

"Not cowardly, just more willing to see that your grand plans include the imminent genocide of the Jaffa," Bra'tac answered.

"Bra'tac, Bra'tac, Bra'tac, what are we going to have to do to you? There's always a price, and I thought your people had agreed to help fight the Goa'uld." Selmak questioned. "I have a wonderful idea. I believe that the Jaffa need to remember that our personal sacrifices easily match theirs. Perhaps they have forgotten what happened to Jacob's homeworld."

"You will remind them. You will be sent through the gate and you shall go to Jacob's homeworld, where you will die," Selmak decided. "We shall all bear witness to your death, Bra'tac. I am sure that your oversized ego will appreciate the fact that it will be a truly unique death."

"Doing that will make him a martyr," inserted Samantha, trying vainly to save her friend and possibly her only ally. "And cause further problems down the road with the Jaffa."

Bra'tac gave her a rather saintly smile, and he raised his hands in benediction.

"Do with me as you will, Selmak, but my people refuse to return to slavery. All will know that I die _**FREE**_!" Bra'tac roared before he attacked George, the old Jaffa Master knowing what would happen, and accepting it.

Bra'tac was still smiling when the guards cut him down. He fell over and he reached for Samantha. His hand was still reaching for her when he began coughing up blood.

"I die free…." He whispered, even as George Hammond continued to land blows on him. Then when Bra'tac was lying on the floor, Samantha closed her eyes, not wanting to see George kicking his old friend in the back with his heavy steel toed boots.

_**On day number twenty eight, I witnessed Bra'tac's murder at the hands of my husband**_, Sam whispered to herself.

* * *

She was trying to stay sane in this mad universe where she had found herself, and first and foremost, that meant keeping track of how long she had been here, and what she had seen. She had a journal, which she hid from George, and she wrote down everything. It was recklessly stupid, because what would George do if he found it, but she had to vent to someone… something… 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 3

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

Synopsis: SG1 has gone ahead in time approximately eight years, and the future ain't pretty.

When we last left Samantha Carter, she has just watched as a not-completely sane George Hammond murdered Bra'tac.You can't really blame George for being a wee bit cranky, as Bra'tac attempted to assassinate him and Samantha.

It's such a shame when old friends grow apart.

* * *

After witnessing Bra'tac's death, Samantha grew increasingly concerned when she didn't hear from the rest of SG1, but George easily assured her it just was because the transport was running silent. After Bra'tac's assassination attempt on George, they had been moved to new, spacious quarters. George claimed it was because he needed a workroom, but Sam knew the bitter truth.

There was absolutely no way they were ever going to get the blood out of the carpets.

Off the ceiling.

Off the walls.

They could probably get the blood off the windows with a power washer but the window panes probably would never be blood-free.

Since she really didn't want George mad at her, she didn't press the issue. Instead she just smiled, thanked everyone for moving their stuff into their new quarters, and tried not to stare in horror at the new System Lord Size bed.

Fortunately, George still slept on the couch as she wasn't sure how'd she react if George wanted to break in the bed.

She continued her research in the esoteric field of time travel in her free time, even while she tried to keep up with her father's demand for more and more powerful weapons.

But she still worried, because she knew her team; they wouldn't have just agreed to Selmak's plan. Selmak-Jacob hadn't killed them? Had they?

And these weapons she was creating, their specs didn't make any sense to her.

"These weapons are for defense?" Samantha questioned one day to Siler, who shook his head.

"I don't know, Ma'am, I just do what I'm told," Siler said. "Your father and George wanted me to assist you, and I'm assisting. I'm not paid to think. It's like I'm still a sergeant, but at least I don't have to worry about ironing my uniform every day."

Hesitantly, she questioned George about the weaponry. Her father couldn't be lying to her, cheerily assuring her that the weapons were for defense but using them for other purposes. But the amount of devastation that each new weapon was capable of producing truly horrified her. She had destroyed a solar system once, but these weapons were making that seem like child's play.

George had appeared distracted when she questioned him. So she had repeated her question again, and he then tried to explain it to her.

"Don't you understand, Samantha? Your father and Selmak are not being completely truthful. When the Goa'uld turned all those cities including Washington DC, London, Moscow and Beijing, into Goa'uld nurseries, your father and I had no choice but to **_nuke_** Earth. Your father changed after that, he turned harder and crueler. And both of us have been responsible for actions, since nuking Earth, which in my youth would have horrified me. They're trying to protect you, Samantha. They don't want you blaming yourself for what they use the weapons for."

"I know nothing about what happened to you and my father, I know nothing about what happened to Earth as no one will tell me, beyond the fact that it was an **_unfortunate sacrifice_**!" Sam reminded him. "We were gating to…"

"PX-1387B…" George answered for her. "You never came back to the SGC, Samantha. You and that team of yours have been gone for eight long years. We needed that intel from PX-1387B in order to beat Anubis. **_We never got it! Your father may have forgiven you, but I HAVEN'T!"_**

George roared, "**_Where the hell have you four been? SIGHTSEEING WHILE EARTH BURNED BENEATH OUR FEET? WHY ARE YOU BACK NOW?_**"

* * *

"There was a storm, we tried gating back home, but the gate was busy. We tried gating to the Beta-Site, and we came out here…. Now… Earth? What happened?" Sam stammered. "You… **_nuked_**… it?" 

George dryly recited the fall of the SGC and humankind's desperate fight for survival, for a moment truly delighting in how much pain he was inflicting on another human being. Samantha sat stunned, her head bowed in her grief.

_**He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee.**_

Nietzsche was as always, unbelievably correct, and yet, so incredibly wrong. George had fought for Earth so hard, and in the end, Jake and he had become exactly what they had fought against.

And after staring into the damnable abyss for so long, George realized, the abyss hadn't just stared back at him, it had taken his soul. All he had left was his anger and his grief…Then his anger faded, leaving him exhausted and sick from self-despite. Times like this when he felt so tired and utterly alone, Nietzsche always came to mind.

_**I know best why it is man alone who laughs; he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter.**_

No laughter, no joy, there was nothing left in his life except for an overwhelming emptiness, that should have hurt, but didn't.

He didn't feel anything anymore.

"Forgive me for being an old, embittered man, Samantha." George said in a very quiet voice. "But you have to realize, you're not going home, Samantha. This is your new home now, with me. Oh God, Samantha, I hate you to break this news to you, but there's been a problem. On top of everything that I just told you, I have to tell you even more bad news."

"What?" she questioned.

_**Oh God, don't let it be SG-1. Please, God, don't let it be about them. **_

"I regretfully have to inform you..."

"No...", she whispered. "No... No... no..."

"That Jack, Teal'c and Daniel's transport to one of our secret bases was attacked by Ba'al's fleet. At this time, we do not believe that there have been are any survivors."

"You must be mistaken," Sam protested.

"Samantha, your father sent several ships out to try and find survivors. We lost them also. He had to do it, as he couldn't face you and tell you that he had sent your… **_our_**… friends to their deaths. It happened several days ago, and we haven't been able to find any trace of them. We have checked and we have checked, and they are not there, Samantha."

"Oh God no," she wept.

* * *

Her emotions were overwhelming her, and to her surprise, George held her tightly against him, allowing her to cry her grief out. At last her tears were finished, and she felt completely empty inside. Uncertainly, George put both his hands on her face, and he gave her a tentative kiss on her mouth.

Samantha pulled back from him, and they just looked at each, uncertain of what to say.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that," George remarked before grimacing. "There's a way I should do this, and me kissing you like that, wasn't the right way to do it."

George then rubbed his hand against her face, even while his other hand caressed her neck.

"Stay with me tonight, Samantha," he requested. "I won't hurt you; I swear that I'll be gentle. There's part of me that still screams in horror in what I've become, and the only time I hear that voice lately is when I'm with you. I've lost so much in these past few years that I need to be reminded that there is more to life than this never-ending constant sorrow."

He kissed her again, and she went rigid at his touch. She felt a jolt of fear when George placed his other hand on her neck as she remembered all too well what had happened at the bazaar.

Something was wrong. How could her team be dead? It was almost too pat, how quickly she had been isolated from the rest of the team.

She had to think, but she was so confused. George had medicated her earlier than normal, and she was feeling… so disconnected…

They were **_dead_**.

He had unbuttoned her shirt, and he was unhooking her bra…George? **_George Hammond_** was doing this to her? His large hand was cupping her breast possessively? He was rubbing his thumb against…. George was still kissing her, and she was… kissing him back?

They broke apart, and George uncertainly smiled at her.

"I won't force you, I promised you," he reminded her, his blue eye staring into hers. "I'll be gentle, I swear on whatever little honor I still possess."

"Don't hurt me, that's all I ask," she whispered. "Please."

"I won't. I've done everything I can to protect you, Samantha. Please stay the night with me, but do so willingly, not because you're afraid of what I might do if you refuse. I know you must hear rumors about my temper, but they're simply **_not_** true. Tell me you don't want this, and I will stop. Don't be afraid of me, Samantha. I need my wife, out of all the people in this entire universe, not to be afraid of me."

Sam nodded her head once in exhausted acceptance and for the first time since she had exited the gate into this strange, new world, she saw George smile. It was more of a grimace, as his scarred, seamed face wouldn't let him smile.

Perhaps, he wouldn't hurt her too badly.

Or perhaps she was becoming too emotionally numb to feel anything, as she was finding herself isolated from everyone, and she was withdrawing further and further into herself. Her life consisted of her lab and her life with George. And on day number thirty seven, she knew that she was doomed. Her team was dead, and when George seduced her, she didn't cry or protest. She just asked him to be gentle.

* * *

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" He questioned her softly when he was finished.

"It was wonderful, George," she told him.

It was a lie.

George had been self-conscious and awkward with her. She had been tense, and him uncertain. So finally, she had tried to relax by taking deep breaths, and just letting him do whatever he wanted to her. He had fumbling caressed her, his sincerity in his desire for her to have some sort of pleasure before his own enjoyment almost painful to her overstretched nerves.

It was easier to keep her eyes closed, to pretend that the man touching her wasn't General Hammond.

If she ever made it home, how could she ever look him in the eyes again?

She could imagine the debriefing where she had to inform the General that General Hammond's doppelganger had married and then fucked her.

**_Well, you see, my father told me to marry you or else he was going to kill SG1 while I watched. But the rest of SG1 died anyway because they agreed to help fight my father's war. Then well, you wanted to have sex, and I agreed only because I had witnessed you beat Bra'tac to death. And... SG1 was dead and I had no one to turn to, and then...  
_**

Far better to imagine that it was someone else.

It wasn't the General's hands that were shyly stroking her body, trying to coax her unwilling body into climaxing.

Finally, she had pulled him on top of her, and she had held onto him tightly during his shuddering release. To her surprise, at his pinnacle, he had called out his late wife's name… and she had pretended not to hear, not wanting to acknowledge the overwhelming sorrow George had put into that one single word.

So much like the General Hammond she knew… she had known… who had still worn his wedding band though his wife was long dead.

His **_first_** wife was long dead.

It was a considerate stranger who sounded like the General, who looked like the General, a stranger who had removed his old wedding band right after their marriage, a familiar looking stranger who simply wanted assurances that she had gotten some enjoyment from his touch.

Someone who she could have met at a bar….

A stranger, who had used the very same hands that were now stroking and caressing her, to kill someone while she had watched.

"I think you're being polite to an old man, Samantha. Next time, it'll be better, as the first time is always a little awkward. You'll tell me what you like, and I'll do it," George promised her. "I didn't hurt you?"

"You were wonderful, George," she tried to assure him, her words sounding false to her own ears, but unable to muster up a more enthusiastic response. "You didn't hurt me, you were… **_wonderful_**."

He rubbed her face with his thumb, and his blue eye stared at her intently, as though he didn't believe her reassurance. She smiled shakily at him, and he kissed her again, but slowly. Closing her eyes in surrender, she tried to relax even as George began to kiss the side of her neck while his wandering hands began stroking her once again.

* * *

Days passed quickly, as did the weeks.

Her grandiose plans for finding a solution and returning home became less and less imperative after the death of SG1, as she found herself focusing on an ever increasing amount of weapons of mass destruction for her father and his army. The remaining System Lords were on the move, and Selmak wanted to cauterize them quickly.

The reason why she had stopped trying to return home was because she was needed here, in the now, rather than in the past. How could she return home with her team **_dead_**?

She didn't want to think that the real reason that she had ceased thinking about returning home was because she couldn't bear to face General Hammond ever again. Better to live this nightmare, than return home and deal with him in the debriefing where she explained about the having sex on her lab table with his future self.

George had survived an altercation with enemy Jaffa, then he had marched double-time into her lab, ordered everyone to leave, and had knocked everything off the table in his burning desire to couple with her. Their sex had been brutal and rough, as George hadn't held his desire in check. He had barely unfastened his body armor before he had her spread-eagle on the lab table.

No doubt, he'd be outwardly his usual understanding, sympathetic and compassionate self, but inwardly, the General would be horrified.

He wouldn't understand.

**_On top of your table in your lab? Really, Major Carter, how… remarkable. Did I at least take off my boots?_**

How could he understand when even she couldn't? George had walked into her lab, cavalierly dismissed everyone while unbuckling his armor and then had her undressed and on the table before she could even think or murmur a protest.

She and George shared their bed now, and they had sex frequently. She would lie in their bed, her eyes closed, and she would hear him enter their room. He'd silently undress, then he'd crawl into bed, and lie next to her. His questing hand would find her, pulling her closer for an embrace even while she shrank inwardly from his kiss. He was gentle with her, well… most of the time… by far, the vast majority of times, like he had promised, but somewhere deep inside of her, she felt corrupted by his touch.

She was so afraid of him, and the fear grew greater and greater each day.

Those few times George had unleashed his emotions when they had sex terrified her. Those were the times that she found herself against the wall or on her lab table; his hands restraining hers while he teased and taunted her. He would bruise her, always accidentally, from holding her just a little TOO tightly or from being a trifle bit too passionate during those times when their sex turned a little rough.

George would always be extremely apologetic when his lustful insanity faded and rationality returned.

He was always exceeding careful with her until the bruises faded…. But when she saw those bruises, the imprint of his hands and fingers on her arms and legs, Samantha always remembered that George had killed a man with his bare hands. But he hadn't got angry at the man, he had just strangled him. It was like he didn't realize he was doing it… much like he didn't realize that he was doing when their sex turned rough and raw.

Sam was absolutely terrified, confused and overwhelmed by the strange, new world in which she found herself.

Her friends were… **_dead_**… Her father was a System Lord; her best friend was having her father's Harcesis, though everyone assured her that she really wasn't having a Harcesis, and her Commanding Officer at the SGC had wed her, and now bedded her nightly.

So many weapons that had to be created to save humanity.

But where they? Or were they being modified after they left her lab?

It had only been a few months since they had come through the gate, so why was she so exhausted? Why had she given up so quickly? Time travel was possible, she had experienced it before, but this time, they had gone ahead, rather than in the past. Her formulas and her drawings lay untouched after George had caught her working on them one day.

Why had she been so terrified when he had looked at them, and he had realized what she was attempting? Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, a lifetime away, when she had been working in her lab and the General had stopped by, she had been delighted when he took an interest.

But he wasn't the General, he was **_George_**.

"You've still got that crazy dream that you'll go home and make everything right? It won't work, Samantha. I've lived these past few years, and you never made it home, dear"

Maybe she never had gotten home until now, she thought.

One day, after George had left her lying in their bed after a long night of passion, she came to a decision.

She couldn't live like this anymore.

Her team was dead, she was the only one left, and therefore, she could do what had to be done.

And so on day one hundred of her captivity, Samantha Carter gave up all hopes of returning home.

Deliberately, she reached inside of her womb, and grabbed hold of the symbiote inside of her. It wiggled and squirmed in her hand, and she removed it. It screeched and hissed and she threw it onto the bed next to her. It was young, too young to forcibly take her as a host especially since she had shielded her neck as a precaution, and she watched in a world-weary detachment as it died.

Closing her eyes, she tried to drift off to sleep, hoping that the end would come soon.

* * *

George found her, and he knew immediately what she had done. He was calling for a medical team to their quarters, even as he reached inside of his womb and grabbed his own symbiote. Roughly, he forced it into her womb, feeling himself weaken almost immediately.

"I'm not letting you die," he growled. "I know what you did. There will be no more blood on my hands, Samantha."

"Let me die," she begged. "Please…"

"No. I will not stain my soul with more blood of innocents."

* * *

Sam drifted in and out of consciousness while her father, George and Janet discussed her condition at her bedside.

"George says that her symbiote failed. She needs to have another one implanted as she can't do the tretonin," Janet explained.

"No tretonin?" Jake questioned. "Why not?"

Janet smiled at her Pharaoh, and patted her bulging belly, "We haven't tested tretonin on a pregnant Jaffa, Grandpa. **_Congratulations_**, George."

Jake gave him a slap on the back, and George nodded his head.

"How many weeks? Will this allergic reaction affect the baby?" George questioned, refraining from yelling, "YEEEE HAAAAW!" at the top of his lungs.

"Eight weeks, and they should be fine," Janet promised.

**_YEEEEEEE HAAAWWWWW! A baby. _**

His children, their husbands and his grandchildren had died at the hands of Anubis before Jake and he had salted the Earth and poisoned the wells to make it uninhabitable for the Goa'uld. It had been act of complete desperation, and his personal sacrifices had almost driven him mad as he had nightly dreamt of his children and his grandchildren.It was always the same dream, repeated several times every night, the six of them with their throats slit, blood splattered, staring at him in mute accusation of how he had failed them.

But since he and Samantha were sharing the same bed, the dreams still came, but not as frequently.

He had been bitterly jealous when Janet and Jake had delightedly announced Janet's pregnancy to him, and now, the fates were smiling at him once again. A baby… maybe it would warm his wife's heart to him, as he knew Sam tolerated him and their marriage only out of her overwhelming fear of something worse happening to her.

Not even his best efforts in her bed had warmed her heart toward him, and God knows how he tried, especially after their awkward first night together. Oh dear God, it still shamed him that he had called out his **_Marie's_** name.

How much worse than that could it have been?

_**Calling out Jake's name?**_

He had apologized repeatedly, explaining to Samantha that Marie had been his only lover, and he finally stopped explaining, as he realized he was just making everything worse with Samantha.

God, he tried so hard with her… Samantha was so damn quiet, even when they were intimate. He shouldn't even think of comparing Samantha to Marie, but Marie had been so vocal when they made love. She had remained such a goddamn hell-raiser in bed in spite of the gray in her hair, until the damn cancer had begun eating her from the inside out. Then he and Marie had just cuddled and kissed like a bunch of scared teens in the back of his father's Chevy, trying to savor what little time they had left together.

But Samantha, dear God, Samantha caused him to **_panic_**. She was a lot younger than he was, a child born of the sexual revolution and he was her father's contemporary, a bit too heavily scarred and missing an eye to boot. When the Goa'uld bomb had blown up, he had taken the brunt of it, trying to shield Jacob and Selmak. Jake had thrown him into the sarcophagus, even while he was howling from the godawful pain, begging Jake to kill him as the pain had long gone past unbearable, and had been crescendoing into new, unexplored levels of agony.

Yes, he had survived that attack, but he'd never win a beauty contest. But he never had been much a looker, but some of the scars he carried were pretty nasty.

How many times did he stop caressing her, just to ask her, "Did you like that?" "Does it feel good for you?" or even... "Tell me how you want me to touch you."

She never protested when he touched her, but sometimes, it took a hell of a lot of massaging before he felt her body relax. From time to time, he wondered what Samantha was really thinking when he caressed her. He always had to initiate their intimacy and while she never said, "**_No_**"…

Maybe she thought she was doing him a kindness, as what woman would willing look at … or **_bed_**… an old scarred freak like him?

Or maybe she was inhibited, as she still thought of him as her superior officer.

But a hell of a lot of water had flowed under that bridge.

Five… no… **_eight _**years worth?

Yes, Austin was over eight years old now, and he had rescued the dog from death row at the pound a few months after SG1 had disappeared. Yes, the good old days, before Jake and he had realized that Kinsey had sold the world to the Goa'uld.

Or maybe the truth was even worse. Perhaps Samantha was sharing his bed out of a misguided sense of compassionate loyalty for her old superior officer whose visage wore the scars of battles fought.

He told himself it really didn't matter to him why she was sharing his bed, just as long as when he reached for her, she was in the bed and allowing him to touch her. She recharged his battered, combat fatigued spirit, as whenever the physical and emotional pain starting building up inside of him, her embrace would soothe and ease his soul.

But damn it, he wasn't expecting a standing ovation, but she was so damn **_quiet_**.

But now… maybe this news would warm her heart.

_**A baby. **_

Samantha shouldn't be afraid of him. He had never even raised his voice in disagreement with her except for that one time when he unleashed some of the anger that burned within him. Yes, he knew that some whispered that he had changed, Jake had even called him wolverine mean to his face, but he dared anyone to walk through the fire and the darkness that he had, and remain sane.

Yeah, so he had a reputation that you never knew what the hell he might do next, but he had it on the best authority that even Yu had trembled when he heard Hammond of Texas was after him.

Sometimes, he had to admit to himself that he got a little rough with Samantha, especially during the times he tried to lose himself in her embrace. When his darkest memories were riding his shoulder, haunting his every step, sometimes he got a little too physical.

He didn't mean to, it was just that he didn't realize that he was hurting her.

Anything faintly resembling gentleness had long been burned out of him, but George always tried not to hurt her. He always endeavored to ensure that she got some sort of pleasure from him. Yeah, he was an old cowboy, ham fisted and rough edged even after all those years in Washington, but he tried, damn it, a gentlemen always **_tried_**. It had taken a while, a lot of patiently persistent questioning but she had finally haltingly told what she liked and what he should do, so he always tried to make her happy.

He really didn't mean to get rough.

Her porcelain skin marked so easily and the morning after, he was always horrified by the bruises he had given her. But George always apologized when he saw that he had bruised her, because he knew a gentleman would **_never_** do that to a lady. So he always made sure the next few times that they were intimate that he was extra considerate with her.

He was a goddamn lonely fool as he had taken to her. She was smart, purty as hell and in her old life, she never had looked twice at the old cuss that had been her CO.

_**Yeeeeeeee HAWWWWWW!**_

He had created **_life. _**

**_Jake and I both know our fates. One day our names will be associated with the memory of something tremendous-a crisis without equal on earth, the most profound collision of conscience, a decision that was conjured up against everything that had been believed, demanded, hallowed so far._**

**_I am the destroyer of Earth, Killer of Children and Grandchildren. _**

He had lost his left eye in his quest for knowledge after drinking from the fountain of Mimir, and he had lost his soul after worshipping at the feet of Kali the Destroyer.

And now, he had created **_Life_**.

"No, you were smart, George. Putting your symbiote into her saved her life and the **_babies_**," Janet smiled widely when she said that.

"Twins?" George sputtered, as Jake laughed in delight.

"You dog, George!" Jake teased.

"Two girls, George. If we put the juvenile Queen Symbiote in her now, it should be strong enough to help her immune system and the little girls," Janet explained. "I want to run more tests on Sam to find out why her symbiote failed."

"Perhaps the symbiote wasn't compatible with the babies," George suggested, not wanting Janet and Jacob to know the truth behind the incompatibility.

"Possibly."

**_Twins? I have to keep Samantha from hurting herself, as I'm not letting anyone take this second chance from me_**, George vowed.

He rubbed his tearing eye, as he was all choked up, like the fool idiot he was.

* * *

Sam stretched and for a moment, she was happy. She was home, waking up in her own bed, and the nightmares were gone. Then her eyes opened, and reality came crashing back, as she realized that a one-eyed George was sitting next to her hospital bed.

"Samantha, are you awake?" He questioned softly. "Don't pretend that you're not. I know that you are awake."

She nodded her head slowly, and he smiled at her.

"We need to have a long discussion, but not here. I want you to know a few things before you're released from the infirmary. I know what you did, and **_why_**, and I am quite certain that you will not do that again, Samantha."

"You can't keep an eye on me all the time, I'll succeed one of these times," she promised.

"Samantha, if you die, then you'll murder our babies." George informed her. "Congratulations, Samantha, you're going to be a mamma. **_Twin girls_**."

She gasped in horrified surprise even as George began stroking her hair.

"What, didn't you think that might happen? You're not fooling me. 'Fess up, Samantha. You and I have been intimate so frequently in these last few months I knew you wanted to have our baby."

**_Oh dear God, she was pregnant. With General Hammond's…. children! Oh dear God, how could she ever return home? How could she ever face him?_**

"Don't worry, dear, I promise you that this old cuss is gonna treat you like you deserved to be treated. I'll be more careful with you, Samantha. I swear."

And on day one hundred and one, Samantha was informed that she was pregnant, and inwardly she screamed in horror, even while her delighted husband kissed her and promised her that everything was going to be just wonderful.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 4

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male Female Symbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely. Bring a bottle of bleach **_ grin> _**as one of the pairings ain't pretty.

Synopsis: SG1 has gone ahead in time approximately eight years, and the future ain't pretty.

When we last left Samantha Carter, she just learned that she's pregnant. But don't start planning the baby shower at the SGC for when Samantha finally returns back to her correct time, as George Hammond's the father.

* * *

Samantha Carter was discharged from the infirmary and she accepted the warm congratulations of family and friends on her upcoming blessed event. She was emotionally shell-shocked, and she realized that she was physically shaking when George placed one arm around her. 

**_There was no escape now. I had my birth control implant done! I shouldn't be pregnant!_**

"You're shaking, Samantha. Sit down, dear," he ordered.

"I want to go home," she pleaded. "Please, take me home."

Her father smiled at Sam, and for once, he looked like his old self. "Give your old man a hug before you go," he requested.

"Dad," she whispered, as she clung to him for strength.

"Sammy, I told you George would treat you well. He hasn't been himself lately, and this will do wonders for him," he confided to her. "You're happy, aren't you? Please tell me you are, Sammy."

"Yes," she lied. "I'm thrilled."

"Janet will explain everything you're going through right now. I'll talk to George, give him first hand advice as I want make sure he continues to treat you well during this," Jake informed her, before hugging her tightly again.

"George, take her home, she needs to be put to bed," Jake insisted.

* * *

They got back to their place, and the General led her to the bedroom, where Samantha found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, and being undressed by The General in his usual efficient manner. After he had taken off her shirt, and folded it neatly, he just stood in front of her, staring intently staring, as though he was trying to memorize her every curve. 

"I'm tired," Sam said.

In a feeble attempt at retaining some shred of her shattered dignity, she then crossed her arms in front of her.

To her surprise, the General put his hands over hers, and he shook his head. "Don't do that, I want to really see you, Samantha. Why don't you lie down? And don't you try to hide from me. I'm your husband, and I really want to look at you."

Sam lay down on the bed, made one futile attempt at pulling a least a sheet over herself which her husband foiled. Then he reclined on his side next to her, resting his head on his hand, even while one of his hands began exploring her. The General used only the tips of his fingers with a very light touch to examine her, and she was surprised to feel shivers run up and down her spine from his touch.

"I need to get out my art supplies," he whispered softly to himself. "I think I want to sketch you, maybe as a reclining nude. I haven't even thought of drawing in a dog's age, so I'm probably really rusty. I wonder if I still have any of my supplies. Did I even bring them from Earth, I wonder?"

His fingers' light touches stopped and were replaced by his hand which was now resting possessively on her symbiote's womb. George leaned closer to her, his blue eyes staring into her soul.

"You're gonna behave now? Don't make me angry, Samantha. If I came home and found that you tried to kill yourself again, I would be very, very angry. Samantha, you won't like it when I'm angry."

She shivered, and he put his large hand on her face, even as she steeled herself to accept his touch without flinching.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that way, dear, I didn't. You've just given me something today."

His hand slipped downward, until it rested farther down, over the smallest of swells.

"You've given me this, and I can actually think of something besides this damn war. I can't lose that, Samantha, not after everything else I've lost. If something happened to this, I wouldn't be able to handle it," George admitted in a very soft Texas drawl. "Promise me, you won't do it again, Samantha. Promise me, I beg of you, but just promise me. You've never seen me angry, Samantha, and I don't want you to see me upset. The only way to break a man who has lost everything is to give him something, something for him to cherish and want and to hope for, and then destroy it."

A brief flash of George filled her mind, as he was killing the man in front of her who had made the mistake of trying to steal her wallet. His death had been quick, fast and brutal, and George hadn't even raised his voice as he had continued talking to her while he had killed that man. Sam remembered the other whispered rumors that she was never supposed to overhear, about how volatile George's temper was and what he had been rumored to have done when his fury had been provoked.

**_It's like congratulating Bambi for marrying Darth Vader! I'm surprised that he hasn't put her in ICU yet!_**

She saw George rocking Austin gently while blood spilled from the dog's mortal wound, his hand applying direct pressure to the wound. He had been covered in his own blood, and his only concern had been for the dog, as it was his only link he had left to his dead grandchildren.

"Don't you die on me, boy, don't you die on me," George had repeated that over and over like a prayer. "How can I face Kayla and Tessa and tell them that you died?"

**_The only way to break a man who has lost everything is to give him something, something for him to cherish and want and to hope for, and then destroy it._**

"You're not promising me, dear," George's voice jolted her back to reality. "If anything happened to the babies, I'd be very upset. Don't do anything stupid like that again, Samantha."

"I promise," she reassured him.

His hand was sliding still lower, and she shook her head when his touch began teasing her.

_**Oh God, not tonight. Please, not tonight. **_

"Please, no," she protested.

Oh God, what had happened to her? She used to be so arrogant, so smug in her perceived superiority. She had experienced the blood of Sokar, survived Jolinar, and a dozen other experiences that would have destroyed weaker souls without so much as a scratch on her psyche, yet this sadistic madman that wore George Hammond's face had managed to break her completely in such a short time.

**_And he had never so much as raised his voice with me._**

"George, no… please….Please?"

"What's the matter, Samantha?" George questioned.

His hand was no longer stroking the inside of her thigh, and instead, he was leaning closer to her. These were the times he terrified her the most, as he sounded so much like the General.

Compassionate, caring, rational…. **_SANE_**….

There were two distinct personalities with which she was dealing. George scared the piss out of her, as he was stark, raving mad, a powder keg with a lit fuse. Then there was The General, who was so much like the man she had known, yet with a callous streak that surprised her over and over again. One personality was George, one was The General, and they were never, **_ever_** General Hammond.

Sam couldn't provoke George, as there was no way she'd survive if he attacked her. George had **_killed_** Bra'tac and now she had her…**_their_**… children… to worry about. What had happened to her implant? She had just gotten it before the last mission! It was supposed to have lasted for years!

Closing her eyes, she still saw George holding the man against the wall, and strangling him with one hand. General Hammond was strong, she knew, as her father had told her stories about George being able to pick up an upright piano by himself in his younger days… but … one handed… the drumming of the man's feet against the wall as he slowly suffocated.

Bra'tac's last words to her, **_I die free…_**

**_My babies… I have to protect them from him. I want to go home… I want to go home…._**

"I'm so tired, please, I beg of you," Samantha pleaded. "No, George… no…"

"You just have to tell me you don't want to, Samantha," her husband reminded her in that soft, distinctive Texan twang. "You look exhausted, and you need your sleep now, more than ever. How many times do I have to remind you? You just have to tell me that you don't want to make love, you don't have to beg me to stop. I've sworn to you that I'd never force you to share my bed."

It was The General talking to her.

"I'm just sore," she lied. "Feeling a little overwhelmed, too."

"Of course, you are," The General assured her, as he began stroking her hair. "You're happy, aren't you?"

"Happy?" Samantha questioned, startled by that word coming from a monster's throat. "What an odd question."

"Happy. Are you **_happy_**? I worry sometimes, you're so much younger than I am, and I know you never ever would have thought of marrying me if it hadn't been for your father. Samantha, I really want to know, are you happy? Being married to old war horse like me? That you're having our children? You've tried so hard to find a way home, have you accepted that this is your home, with me?"

She looked into his blue eye, and she pondered what to say. His face fell, and he sighed.

"I shouldn't ask questions when I know that I won't like the answers," he rumbled. "You still want to go home, back to the past? Samantha, you need to accept the fact that your attempts failed. If you had made it home, Jacob and I would have known. I stood in the Gate room every damn day and every time there was an incoming wormhole, I prayed that it was SG1. We searched for you; I personally led the teams, Samantha. The Pentagon was furious with me as I refused to stop searching and declare SG1 missing. Finally, I had to accept the fact that you and your team weren't coming back. Believe me when I tell you that notifying your father that you were missing and presumed killed in action was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, Samantha."

"And when Anubis said that he had killed SG1, it nearly broke my heart."

No.. no… this was General Hammond speaking to her, the **_real Hammond_**, not the man she called George, not the man she called The General. Not three personalities, please, she could barely handle TWO.

She was in an emotional maelstrom, George's insanity insidiously dragging her down into the depths of madness, faced with an impossible choice between Scylla and Charybdis.

Samantha decided that for now, her best choice was to surrender. For just a little while, until she regained her emotional equilibrium and her strength, she would play the game as George wanted it played. It was time to pretend that she was delightfully happy with her husband and their children.

Later, when she wasn't so exhausted, she'd try to get home. Then, when she was home, she would explore her ambivalent feelings toward her pregnancy. Sure, she had always wanted kids, but… funny; she had always naively thought her husband would be… what was the word, her mind was searching for… ah… **_sane_**.

Never thought the father would be General Hammond… _The General… **GEORGE…**_

"George, would you just hold me, and tell me everything is going to be fine?" Sam requested. "I'm just a little scared."

"Don't be scared, Samantha. I won't let anything happen to you. I swear it," the General promised her, as he curled next to her. "Go get some sleep."

He held her until she fell asleep, whispering in a soft Texan twang that everything was going to be fine, that she was going to be a wonderful mother and a thousand other soft inanities.

And she dreamed horrible dreams.

She watched as a rather serene George strangled a man with his bare hands, even while she begged him to stop. He didn't even perceive the faceless man he was garroting. The featureless figure clad in blue had his hands around George's in a feeble attempt to break his executioner's grasp, and Sam continued to beg and scream for him to stop.

Sam tried to stop him, fought, punched and kicked, and tried to save whoever it was, until the realization of who the victim was stunned her. It was General Hammond.

The **_REAL_** General Hammond.

His eyes met hers, and for a moment, there was a sense of recognition in his fading blue eyes.

The General's lips moved, as though he was trying to tell her something.

What was he saying? It was important, she knew. The General wanted her to know something, and she couldn't comprehend him. His lips moved again, as he tried to repeat his message.

"I don't know what you said," she screamed. "I don't understand."

He tried again, in vain, and then General Hammond slumped to the ground.

And he died.

* * *

The next few months passed in an exhausted blur. She discontinued her journal, instead keeping a mental count of the days since she had arrived. For example, yesterday… or had it been the day before…had been day number one hundred and fifty three. 

She was fatigued from being pregnant and her never ending work in the lab plus her home life was akin to living in an emotional pressure cooker, as George was omnipresent. Whenever she turned; there he was, watching her, keeping his one good eye on her. Sam had first thought George was everywhere because he was making sure she honored her non-suicidal pact. But she realized quickly that Siler and Davis were her guards, not George.

It took longer for her to realize the reason why George was stalking her because he was fixated on her and the babies, much like a drowning man clutching on a life preserver. His rather tenuous grip on sanity was very much dependent on her swelling belly.

**_The only way to break a man who has lost everything is to give him something, something for him to cherish and want and to hope for, and then destroy it._**

Then there were the little family dinners her father insisted on throwing for just the seven of them, Dad, Janet, George, herself, plus the next unborn generation, that being her half-brother the Harcesis, and her two unborn daughters. Her father and Janet would giggle and laugh throughout the entire meal, occasionally getting very touchy feely.

Janet made her grim father laugh and smile, Sam had to admit, and the bubbly doctor seemed to be able to draw both Jake and George out of their shells into something resembling normal conversation.

But they never talked about the SGC.

Ever.

The General never got touchy feely with her in public, which was just as well, because trembling in terror when he touched her in public would have gotten him upset. But in private, he was extremely hands on, offering to massage her back and her feet, and being very affectionate, morning, noon **_and_** night. Sam tried not to shake whenever he came into the lab and he wordlessly extended his hand to her. She was never sure which personality was in charge until they got to the conference room.

When it was The General, he'd make her sit on the conference table. He'd sit nearby and he'd rest his head in her lap, his arms surrounding her and hugging her tightly. The General never really spoke to her when he was like this, though once she overheard him repeatedly whispering, "thank you, thank you, thank you".

Sometimes, he'd stay in that position for only a few minutes, once it had been close to an hour. After the first few sessions where she sat on the conference table and waited for The General to compose himself, Samantha began to massage his shoulders in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

When The General kissed her belly that meant the session was over. He'd silently depart then, and Samantha would try not to cry.

When it was George in charge, they'd have sex.

Repeatedly.

On the conference table that looked suspiciously liked the very same conference table where General Hammond had always debriefed them after a mission.

Well, it was just a slightly different type of debriefing now.

George was fast and rough when they had sex. He never really hurt her, but he was rougher than when The General touched her.

Siler and Davis never said a word, but they thought they knew what was going to happen in the conference room within the next few minutes. Knowing Siler and Davis as well as she did, Sam realized that they were commenting on and critiquing their alleged performance even before George had undressed her. How long would it take? Would she walk out of the conference room gingerly? Would she return to her office and cry? Or would she pretend everything was just fine?

Whenever he wanted to have sex, she complied quickly, no matter how tired she was, no matter how uncomfortable she felt, no matter what the location, no matter whether it was George or The General who wanted it. Samantha thought it ironic that the only time in her life she really wanted quick sex The General was insisting on her complete gratification, no matter how much time it took.

If The General needed to take hours, he took hours, and the few times she tried to sham her response, he had just shaken his head and laughed.

"Darling, it was a good try, but I know your body well enough by now to know when you're faking."

When The General wanted her to disrobe to sketch her, she did. He had found his charcoal, his sketching pads, and other assorted sketching supplies, and so she posed whenever and wherever he wanted her to pose, grateful that her burgeoning career as a pregnant nude model mainly allowed her to lie in bed.

His finished sketches were never good enough for him, as he obsessed over them, bemoaning his lack of practice over the past few years. Whenever she asked to see his sketches, the General insisted that he had lost most of the skill he once had, so he fed the pictures to the dancing flames in the fireplace, rather than let her see them.

"I'd like to see them, really I would," she insisted, more out of a sense of ingrained politeness than any desire to see herself nude.

Good God, she was **_huge. _**

The General didn't seem to notice, in fact, whenever the General drew and sketched, he always mentioned how beautiful she was and how she was captivating him more and more. George, on the other hand, just shook his head and called her vain.

There were times, when she was in her office, where she started laughing about the fact that The General was such a dutiful husband. He was assuring her that he still found his very pregnant wife attractive; he always brought flowers to her, or picked up a little trinket that he thought she'd like. Isn't that sweet? While he burning down one of Ba'al's palaces, he'd stop in the middle of the raping, the rampaging and mandatory pilfering because something caught his eye for the little missus.

Sometimes she laughed so hard about the fact that her perfect husband was stark, raving nuts, she couldn't stop until she was crying uncontrollably. The first time she had done that, Sly Siler had caught her.

"Madam? Is there something I should do?" Sly requested.

"Could you kill me?" she requested.

Siler's face had dropped and he had stepped back from her quickly, as though she was a plague carrier. "He'd kill me then. He'd kill me and then he'd kill my family, Ma'am. So I know you're joking. Ma'am, you know **_that_** he chose Walt and me to watch over you."

Samantha realized that The General was talking to her, and she quickly collected her scattered thoughts. The General would make allowances for her being slightly scattered-brained, but George got annoyed when she didn't listen to him.

"Why don't you believe me when I tell you that you're beautiful?" George touched her face with his hand, and he grimaced. It might have been an attempt at a smile, but the scars on the left side of his face had left his mouth turned permanently downward. No matter how many times he laid in the "tank", his scars never got any better.

Yes, this was The General talking, not George. George would tell her to stop being so damn vain.

"No, dear, it is far better that I burn them before anyone sees them. I'm just not doing you justice, Samantha. I can't capture what I want, what I see in my head. My hands don't have the skill I once had, I'm afraid, plus losing my eye didn't help as I don't have a good depth perception anymore. But what I really want, is to capture that soft, faraway look in your eyes when you're thinking about our babies. I can't even get the drape of the sheet correct, the texture of it, of how it drapes so nicely over this," he protested as he placed his hand on her swollen belly. "Let alone your eyes. Those beautiful eyes of yours; Samantha, I just can't duplicate them with charcoal on a sketching pad."

She was just so tired.

And her husband still woke her up during the night to talk.

His ramblings touched on topics as varied as Bra'tac's betrayal, the varying consistency of the different charcoals that he was using in his sketches, to his fear that he wouldn't be a good father to their children.

Fortunately, George had stopped his dry recitations of the various deaths and dismemberments of assorted campaigns, as she had broken down in heart wrenching sobs when he had been matter-of-factly discussing a particularly ghastly campaign.

"Samantha? What's the problem, darling? Why are you all choked up?" George questioned.

**_You sound so much like the General that it breaks my heart over and over again to see you now. I believe that I could handle this so much better if I didn't believe you were once the General Hammond I knew and respected. _**

"Please, no more, George, I'm begging you," she wept uncontrollably. "I can't bear to hear about the campaign against Amaterasu again. I can't listen to how her Jaffa died, please."

When Amaterasu's Jaffa had been ordered to surrender or die, the Jaffa had decided to follow their goddess into the afterworld. Hundred of thousands of Jaffa had died by their own hand, with mothers and fathers taking their children's lives. George had told her repeatedly about finding two young girls that reminded him of his grandchildren, and he had been brutally graphic about how he had found them.

He didn't seem to feel any emotion, so talking about two little girls with slit throats didn't faze him at all, but it horrified Samantha.

"Samantha, don't cry. It's my fault, I kept forgetting that I'm a crusty, old cuss, and I have to act more like a gentleman, especially now. I'm a sorry excuse for a husband, I know," George said softly. "But please, don't get all worked up, it's not good you or the children."

* * *

The months passed, and her physical and emotional exhaustion continued to intensify. She tried to keep up a brave front, assuring George that her fatigue was natural, and was due to her pregnancy but George had disagreed. To her surprise, George had argued with her father, telling Jacob that she was working too hard in the laboratory, and that it wasn't healthy for her or for the grandkids. 

Her father hadn't been willing to lose his bomb building, solar system destroying, baby making technogeek of daughter, but he had agreed to have Janet examine her and have Janet make the decision. That largesse had meant a great many tests and naturally George had insisted that he be present for all of the exams. And so he stood quietly ominous and looming in a corner of the room while Janet poked and prodded her.

Janet had tsked disapprovingly because Sam's blood pressure was elevated, that she was underweight and assorted other problems. Finally, Janet asked George to leave the room.

He had refused, but Janet had insisted. The small queen had only won that argument when her eyes had flashed warningly at George.

"Sam, please sit up," Janet requested. "I want to talk to you, please."

Carefully, she sat up, and Janet noticed that her patient was shivering so she wrapped another blanket around her. Janet sat next to her on the examination bed, and hugged her. For a moment, it was like old times back in the SGC.

Except for the little tiny bit about being impregnated by her CO. For some reason, that thought always kept rearing its ugly little head and saying, "**_Yoo hoo_!** **_I think this is a career ending incident!"_**

"Listen to me, Samantha, I know you weren't happy marrying George, but if you lose these babies, it will absolutely destroy him," Janet informed her in a disapproving tone. "You're not eating; you're not taking care of yourself; are you trying to lose them?"

"I-i-i-iii…" Sam sputtered and then she shook her head. "I'm so exhausted, and I'm so overwhelmed."

"Sam, do you want them?" Janet questioned gently after the doctor had hugged her again. "I won't tell your father, I won't tell George, it will be between us."

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I just…"

Janet placed her hands over hers, and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Sam, it's been over eight years since you disappeared. You need to accept what your father and George have done to prevent the Goa'uld from completely enslaving the human race. It's fairly easy as a Monday morning quarterback for you to criticize and to malign their decisions, but you don't know what they've been through."

"Don't you think that I really deliberated about becoming Selmak's queen? As it was, it was a damn good thing your father and Selmak were there, holding my hand when the first brood was born, as I was freaking out. It's gotten better, but I still think that they're the ugliest things that I've ever seen," Janet said with a shudder.

Sam rubbed her hand against her mouth, and Janet began massaging her tight shoulders.

"I don't mean to sound so harsh, Sam, I don't. But your father can tell that you're rather unhappy with what he's had to do after Earth fell. Your father really talks to me, and he worries that you don't love him anymore and that you have lost all your respect for him. It's killing him, Sam. He lost your mother and you know that your brother and his family died when they nuked Earth. Jake tried so hard to find them, Sam, but your brother blamed him for you being MIA. Mark moved, he cut off all contact to your dad and he didn't tell him that he had moved. He and George searched for them so hard."

More guilt, how could she handle **_more_**?

"Dad's never mentioned Mark to me," Sam wept.

"And George… Come on, I know he's not your type, Sam. I know you and O'Neill had that …" Janet waved her hands…"Attraction, but you know as well as I do, that it wouldn't ever go anywhere. He was too much like your father, Sam, for you ever to be truly happy with him."

Janet then rubbed Sam's back for a bit before continuing, "Poor George, I feel so bad for him. He knows you don't love him and he truly believes that you despise him."

Shaking her head, Sam tried to protest, but Janet continued speaking.

"George talks to me about you, and he asks what he should do differently for you. He says you never smile anymore and that you always seem so despondent. Do you want to know what he asks me? George wonders if you mention him at all to me, he wants to know if you're unhappy, if he should try something different in bed, if you're happy being pregnant? He inquires all the time to find out if you've told me what he's doing wrong, Sam."

"Yes, he's not the same George Hammond you knew eight years ago," Janet continued. "But he's changed because of what happened."

"First, we thought you were dead. Anubis claimed that he had killed SG1, and George blamed himself for that. Then, I don't know how Anubis found Hammond's family, but it was the next thing Anubis did. George's daughters and their family went on vacation to New York City together, George was going to take a few days off and join them, but then everything went to hell. Kinsey betrayed humanity and let the Goa'uld take over. Then Anubis declared war on Earth by killing George's family."

"I was there in the Conference Room when Anubis did it. George never said a word as he watched his family die, Sam. It was horrible, Sam, and he just stood there, stone-faced and mute as they **_butchered_** his family because he refused to agree to their terms. His grandkids were screaming for him, and he just **_watched_**. Jake always said that George's heart and soul died with his family that day, but his body was too stubborn to admit it," Janet stopped, wiping her eyes.

"George is so delighted that you're pregnant, Sam. He probably doesn't tell you enough as he's afraid that his enemies will go after you because you're his Achilles' heel now. Remember what Bra'tac did, he sent a squad of Jaffa assassins after George and _**GEORGE'S WIFE, **because if he couldn't get to George, they were to kill you_. If anything happens to you or the babies, it will destroy him. It happened to him once, Sam, and we nearly lost him then. If it happens again, I don't think George will be able to handle it…"

Sam began shaking uncontrollably, wishing that she could wake from her nightmare.

"He does care for you, Sam. He might not be the most expressive of men, but he does. I can tell by the way he looks at you. The only time he smiles is when you're in the room, Sam. Just look beyond those horrific emotional and physicals scars he has, Sam, and you'll finally see that he really wants to do right by you," Janet assured her. "Now, stop crying, as he'll blame himself if he sees you've been weeping."

Janet brought her a cool cloth for her eyes, and she sat next to Sam, continuing to massage her back.

"Do you want to see them?" Janet questioned. "Let me get the scanner out, and you and George can see them. I usually don't scan so early in the pregnancy, but it might help you and George connect. Is that ok?"

Sam nodded her head, and Janet began bustling around the room, picking up various strange pieces of medical torture… devices… When she was done, she walked back to Sam and stroked Sam's hair.

"I'm going to let him back into the room, and I bet you the first thing he's going to ask is, are you and the kids ok?" Janet said softly.

* * *

He wasn't going to pace. No, instead he was going to sit in the damn chair and goddamn stew. Just because she was Jacob's queen didn't mean Janet Frasier could flash her goddamn eyes at her and make him leave the room while she was examining his wife. 

Yet, here he was, cooling his damn heels, sitting outside the examination room. He was tired, his phantom eye was hurting him, and it seemed like every old wound he had acquired over the years was paining him. But he had some pride left, when the door opened, he was not gonna jump up and get pissy with Janet.

Sure as God made little grey aliens by the name of Thor, the minute the door opened, he jumped from his chair, and tried to get into the room.

"Is she alright? The kids ok?" George demanded to know. "Is there a problem? Is that why you kicked me out of the room? Tell me, I can handle it."

"George, let's talk outside the room, please." Janet then pushed him out into the hallway. "Sit down, as I'm not straining my neck looking up at you."

"Is she alright?" George repeated again. "You kick me out of the room by flashing those eyes of yours, and now you want me to sit?"

Janet rubbed her temples, and sighed, "George, please, put your ass in the chair."

"I don't ever remember you using those words to me before," George growled as he sat down.

"Actually, I was tempted to say it all the time, I just didn't," Janet retorted. "George, she's exhausted. She needs a break from the lab."

"I'll tell Jake," George decided quickly. "He's not gonna kill his daughter by overworking her."

"George, let me handle Jake? Please? You just go home and pamper her for a bit. More than anything, she needs to sleep and she needs to eat," Janet suggested.

"She's not eating, I don't know what to do," he admitted.

"George, are you cooking?"

"Well, I hate to say this, but you know perfectly damn well I'm cooking," George rumbled. "You remember those god-awful Christmas cookies she used to bring into work."

The two of them shuddered together, and Janet began laughing.

"I'm sorry; George, but I've eaten your cooking. You think you can cut down the spices a little? Maybe the 'stomach is aflame and the fire department is on standby' level is too blistering for her," Janet teased.

"No, I'm being very careful. I spice my portion only after I serve her. She's just not eating, Janet. She's not happy about this happening. I was hoping that she would be, maybe she'd actually stop mourning her old life and…"

He sighed.

"How about the girls?" Hammond asked brusquely, not wanting to admit to anyone, even Janet, how much he was worried about his daughters. "They ok? If you have to make a decision between them…"

He paused, and then grimaced.

Janet reached out to George and deliberately put her hand on the scarred half of his face. She did that, not to remind him of the scars, but to assure him that in her eyes, nothing had changed and that he was still the same man he had always been.

"They're fine, George. Don't you worry," she assured him. "I've set the scanner up, and you and Samantha can see them. Would you like that?"

"Please?" George requested.

* * *

A wan-looking Samantha was lying on the exam table when he entered the room. First thing he noticed was that the room was a little chilly, and that she was only wearing a light blanket. Janet was hustling around, grabbing her equipment, so he grabbed a couple of the heavier blankets that were stacked haphazardly on top of the linen cart. 

"You look cold," he said softly to Sam.

She gave him a slight smile in response, so he unfolded the one blanket and carefully placed it over her legs. He then made sure that it was neatly tucked in, as he didn't want her to catch a stray breeze. One was placed over her upper torso, and he removed the light blanket that she had been wearing, leaving her belly bare. Then he placed yet another blanket over it.

"Better?" George questioned.

Another nod.

Damn it, sometimes he wished he knew what to do for his wife. He never had a glib tongue, but…

He sat down heavily, making sure that he sat on Sam's left side. That way she couldn't see the ruins of his face. The old wounds were aching again, and he tried massaging his temple. Sometimes, kneading would give him some peace from the physical pain, more often than not, it wouldn't.

"George? Are you in pain?" Samantha questioned.

"Aching," He admitted. "Phantom pain still hurts. It flares up every now and then."

George tried to give her a smile, in spite of knowing that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't physically smile anymore. Maybe she'd realize that he was making an effort to smile, and she'd appreciate it.

"You must get tired of the pain," his wife said.

"I learned to deal with it a while ago," he said softly. "Endure the unendurable has been my personal dogma for the last few years. There's been no other option, Samantha."

Her blue eyes filled with tears, and he sighed silently. He never said the right thing to her, NEVER.

"That's such a horrible way to live, George," Samantha said quietly.

"It's not like I had a choice," he reminded her.

Damn it, the tears were running down her face now.

"No, it's not like you did," she whispered.

* * *

Janet walked over to the bed, and she gave them both a warm smile. 

"Want to see the girls?" She questioned.

George leaned forward to stare at the monitor. The girls were little things really, but Janet was rattling off various comments to Samantha, but he tuned her out, so he could really look at them, trying to memorize what he was seeing. Maybe he could paint an abstract design with acrylics. Two as one, yet separate.

God, he wouldn't want to admit this to anyone, but he **_loved_** those little girls that Samantha was carrying.

They were living proof that he could actually create life rather than destroy.

For a moment, he remembered two other bright, happy little girls, Kayla and Tessa, and how they used to run toward him with open arms. They had loved him and he had failed them, for they had died at the blood stained hands of Kinsey and Anubis. The constant pain from his ruined left eye flared anew, and he found himself standing. He had to leave the room to compose himself, as he dared not show the slightest weakness to anyone.

Not to Janet.

Not to Samantha.

Weaknesses could be exploited and they would be used against you.

Just ask Kayla and Tessa who had screamed for him while he stood there… watching… as they died.

* * *

"Be back in a minute, need to check in," he rumbled, even though he knew perfectly damn well Samantha would be quite happy if he dropped off the face of the New Earth. 

"George, my office is next door," Janet informed George.

Unexpectedly, he had jumped out of his chair, muttered something about the need to check in, and then left her lying on the table.

George nodded his head, and left the room.

"He left the room so he could compose himself," Janet informed her. "He was thinking of Kayla and Tessa. I can always tell when he thinks of them."

Sam sighed.

"You're going to have to learn to read him. It's rather difficult, and the sarcophagus doesn't do much in the way of plastic surgery. It's only good for life and death injuries, and that's only sometimes. Your father and Selmak modified Telchak's healing device, but we don't like using it too much," Janet explained.

Janet then continued talking about the babies, and Sam was surprised to realize that she was actually… **_happy_**… about becoming a mom.

* * *

George came back into the room and he seemed disappointed that she was already dressed. 

"Look, Dad, if you get squeamish during the scans, how are you going to handle labor?" Janet teased. "I'm glad Jake isn't that squeamish, as he better be there, right next to me, holding my hand, when I have our baby."

Sam watched George's face, and realized that the right side of his face was slightly quirked upwards, as though in a smile.

"Don't think that he'd miss it for the entire universe," George answered. Then he looked at her and made a noble but ultimately unsuccessful attempt at a reassuring grin. "I know that I don't. Let's take you home, Samantha, you need to rest."

"George?"

"Yes?" He answered.

"I had Janet save some pictures for you during the time you were out of the room," she informed him.

Hesitantly, she handed the crystal to him. Their hands touched for a brief moment, and he looked at her, his blue eye full of something that appeared close to regret. Samantha then remembered the suggestion that Janet had made and she decided to attempt it. Perhaps it was an olive branch, a bridge for the two of them to connect and strengthen the bond they now had.

Or… maybe she was desperately hoping to reach the **_Real_** General Hammond.

"I thought maybe you'd like to sketch them… and maybe you'll let me see the drawings when you're done?"

He looked the crystal, and appeared surprised, "I don't know…" he began to protest. "I'm not that talented."

"I insist, I really want to see your artwork, George," she protested.

George looked uncomfortable and then Janet chimed in what a wonderful idea it was.

"George is very talented," Janet said very cheerfully.

* * *

When they return home, George made her go to bed. She protested that she wasn't tired, that she had to call Sly and Walt about a project she was working on, and George easily overrode her. 

"Go lie down," he insisted. "I'll make sure Austin leaves you alone. Ever since he got out of the tank, he thinks he's a puppy again."

She continued to protest and then he put his index finger over her mouth.

"You're exhausted, Samantha. Your projects in the lab can wait until tomorrow, so I don't want you calling Sly behind my back. If you do, I'll be exceptionally angry. You don't want me angry, do you?"

An unpleasant feeling ran up and down her spine after that ominous threat softly spoken in George's distinctive Texas twang.

"No, I don't," she assured him.

"You're looking pale, Samantha. Please, go lie down. I'll bring dinner in for you, and you can sleep. Samantha, you have to remember that you have two little girls that need you to be rested and healthy. If your father has a problem, I'll deal with him," George assured her.

"Dear," he said, stopping her before she went to their bedroom.

He put his fingers on her face, and he looked into her eyes.

"You have to tell me what you want me to do for you. If you're working too hard, you need to tell me. I'm an old solider, Samantha, and I'm rough around the edges, so you have to remind me of those little niceties that you need, especially now. If you want me to cook something in particular because you want it, tell me. If you've got a craving or… you want your feet rubbed because they're sore, you gotta tell me. That's our deal, ok, Samantha? You promise me that you'll do that."

Sam nodded and she gave George a smile.

**_What I really want is to go home, but you won't let me go home, now would you, George? _**

"Now go to bed, Samantha, but I should warn you, Austin's missed you."

"Oh, so he'll be joining me in bed?" Sam laughed tiredly.

"No, but you'll probably feel a cold nose soon."


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 5

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely. To read this fic, you need one bottle of bleach to scrub your mind out, as one of the pairings is a bit unusual.

Synopsis: SG1 has gone ahead in time approximately eight years, and the future ain't pretty.

When we last left Samantha Carter, she's overjoyed at becoming a mom, and her days and nights are full of important things such as what to name the girls, picking out baby clothes and all that fun stuff.

**_Not. _**

* * *

The next two months were a blur. She slept a lot, no doubt helped by whatever medication that George administered into her womb, first one vial, once a day then gradually increasing up to three administrations of two ampoules every day. Whatever it was, it was icy cold and it caused the Queen Symbiote inside of her to squiggle and squirm.

Then if the weather was good, after her first dose of medication, her dutiful husband would help her stagger out to the System Lord Selmak's private gardens to get some fresh air. Normally, he'd be half-supporting her, half carrying-her to her "spot", which was a comfortable chaise lounge where she would promptly collapse into an enervated mass of humanity. Austin always tagged along, and the dog would refuse to leave her side while she was out there.

More often than not, hours later, she'd wake up, and Austin would be sleeping next to her.

Then George would show up around lunchtime, to make sure she and Austin were fed, walked, and watered and then he'd re-medicate her. Then she would stagger back to her chaise lounge and collapse again.

If she was feeling exceptionally energetic, she'd sit in the swing, and rock for a bit. The repetitive motion seemed to calm both the twins and the symbiote, as the three of them delighted in roiling and writhing in a never-ending fight for the role of Alpha Leader in her belly.

Ever since they started medicating her, the twins and the Queen had been at war, it seemed. Gone were the gentle butterfly movements of her early pregnancy, now the trio fought and kicked and wrestled unremittingly as her belly swelled larger and larger.

Then George would return, hours later, and take her home to her gilded cage. He'd water, walk and feed her, and medicate her. Then she'd doze on the couch while he did whatever he was doing. Then, after a few hours, he'd take her to their bed where the nightly ritual would take place. She'd be undressed and then they'd have sex repeatedly until George was satiated.

Sometimes, when The General was touching her and trying to be gentle, she'd feel a budding tenderness toward the father of her children. He was trying very hard with her; she had to admit to herself. George was always cooking her favorites, and doing a thousand other little gestures that screamed about the effort he was making. George had even finished painting her toe nails one afternoon, when her unexpected burst of energy had disappeared, leaving her with only two colored nails... ok… actually one and half toe nails… done.

George had played hooky from work, and he had the afternoon off. He had been watching her paint her nails, and then he had been puzzled by the fact that she was capping the bright red nail polish with the job half-finished, ok, roughly eighty percent of the goal unaccomplished.

"Aren't you going to finish them?" George questioned.

"No, it's the latest fashion, you only do the big toes," she insisted.

He had shaken his head, and he had moved his chair closer to her. Then he had picked up her feet and put them in his lap.

"Give me the bottle, I'll finish them, you can't leave them half-done," he protested.

Ignoring her protests, her… **_husband_**… had spent two hours on them, first removing the paint she had applied and then massaging her aching feet until she was nearly purring. Then while she had dozed, he had painted them.

Sam had woken up to find that her toenails were literally pieces of abstract artwork. She had tried to push herself upwards in order to see her feet, as they were hidden by the twins, and he had offered to get her a mirror.

It had taken her a few minutes to realize that he had made a joke, as she had been too busy arguing that she wasn't that big yet and that she could still see her feet.

Then he had made a Herculean effort at a smile, and he said softly, "A baby will make love stronger, your days shorter, your nights longer, your wallet lighter, your home happier, and your clothes shabbier, your past will be forgotten, and your future will be worth living for. Could two babies redeem even someone like me?"

Sam realized that he hadn't meant to say that out loud, and so she complimented him on her toenails. Then, she asked to see his artwork again. He never let her see any of his work, and so she was expecting his usual brusque "No". She wasn't really expecting him to rub the injured side of his face as though he was seriously considering showing her his artwork.

"They're not that good," he protested.

"Let me be the judge," Sam insisted.

And he had shown her his drawings. Thankfully due to her non-stop power napping that day, she was mentally coherent enough to realize that George was in reality quite talented, and that his renderings were flattering her **_immensely_**, especially the ones he had done of her in the nude. Even pregnant, she wasn't **_that_** endowed, and he hadn't drawn in the X-shaped symbiotic womb.

"George, these are first-rate," she praised him. "But I'm not that pretty."

"You are, it's how I see you," he protested.

What else could she do then, but kiss him?

George desired her; and it was observable to her that every so often George pondered why he was the one was making all the effort in regards to the bedroom, and so for tonight, she'd try to be more assertive.

That night, George had seemed…genuinely delighted and startled when she had kissed him. They had kissed gently for a bit, and then he had broken away from her as though to memorize her face. She could have sworn her husband was really attempting to smile at her, even though his blue eye was emotionally impassive.

* * *

Other times, when his demons were riding his shoulder, Sam would try to harden her heart. Yes, George might bruise her body and cause her physical pain when he got a little rough during sex, but she refused to let him injure her soul, allowing the drug-induced daze to envelop and swathe it into its protecting numbness.

What can't be tolerated, must be endured, she reminded herself.

The next day would find George apologetic and soft-spoken, ashamed of what he had done. He'd stammer a heart-felt apology before he medicated her and she'd nod her head in wearied acceptance, like the good little wife she was.

Yet, she still wondered about the medication.

* * *

One day, it was bound to happen. The bird in the gilded cage was left unattended, and she made her attempt at escape.

"Dear, I'm going to go fight the bad guys. I should be back in about a week or so. Promise me, you'll take your medication, Samantha," George requested. "You need to take it, so the girls can get bigger."

He stroked her belly, which Samantha personally thought was large enough as it was, thank you very, very much.

"I'll take the medication," she promised.

"Do you want me to ask Janet to administer it to you?" George questioned.

"No, I can do it. Let me sit up and show you," Samantha asserted, as she had the sparks of an idea.

If George wasn't home to medicate her, maybe she could stop taking the medications, and the omnipresent mental fog would lift from her mind. Then deliberately, she sat up, and took the ampoule from George, and administered it to herself. She administered both dosages, and then she quickly reclined before the mental fogs rolled back in.

"Promise me, you'll take care of yourself and the girls," George requested. "You'll take your medication like you're supposed to, and you'll eat. I made plenty of stuff, it's in the freezer, and all you just have to do is to zap it."

"I know," she assured him in a rather absentminded tone. "You worry too much, I'll do just fine."

"Don't go anywhere without Davis or Siler, promise me?" He commanded. "Don't open the door unless it's your father or Janet. You know where the alarms are, right?"

She nodded her head, like the good little incubator she was.

"Don't let Austin sleep with you all the time, as he's got his own bed," George reminded her. "He'll get spoiled, and he'll want to be in bed with you all the time."

"Just like his daddy," she slurred. "But I'll be cold…without you, George… so… I'll let him stay in bed with me….else… I'll be cold…"

Oh God, she was really looped already, and it hadn't been more than a few minutes since she took the shit.

He droned on for a bit, and then she told him to shut up.

"I know… George… now shut up… so you can leave… that means… you'll… be back… quicker…"

She stared at him in her drugged bewilderment, but she thought George might be smiling as he actually thought she'd miss him.

_**In your dreams, Hammond. **_

"Cover me, cold…" she slurred.

He covered her with a blanket, and then he left her only after putting his hand on her belly again.

* * *

Sam didn't go cold turkey. No, instead, she did only one ampoule at lunch, shivered and shook for a bit, and while she felt like she had raced four marathons right after each other, she felt coherent for the first time in months. The girls were still stirring like mad in her belly, so they didn't seem to be too adversely affected.

Being the dutiful little incubator that she was, she opened the freezer, saw seventeen different meals all neatly stacked with a piece of freezer tape on them – detailing in George's neat handwriting what was inside of them.

"Let's see… chicken, chicken, meat dish, pasta, pasta, pasta, rice, rice, assorted veggie type things," Sam recited, before closing the door firmly on the selections. "I'm not really hungry."

Turning around from the freezer, she nearly tripped over Austin, who was staring at her with doggie reproach in his dark eyes.

"I'm not hungry, Austin," Sam informed him. "We won't tell George, ok?"

Then she sat at George's desk and she began scribbling arcane calculations.

"Now, Austin, I'm going to review a few laws of physics, so I can figure out how I'm going to get home," Sam told the dog.

He padded over to where she was, and then sat in front of her. The dog yawned and then looked at her questioningly.

"Yes, if I can go home, I'll take you with me," she promised, as truthfully, she had gotten quite fond of Austin. "You, me and the girls, we'll all go home together."

Samantha rubbed her burgeoning belly for a bit, not wanting to reflect too deeply on that thought. Because, if she went home, would she lose her babies? She had to prevent this future from occurring, but if this future didn't happen, she'd lose the girls. Unless this was a loop which hopefully would only happen once, because what if she was doomed to continually repeat the loop over and over and over and over again?

She felt dizzy, and she put her head down on the desk.

"First, I have to figure out if I can get home, Austin," she told the dog. "Then I have to decide what to do."

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and tried to not to cry. What would happened if she went home, remembering everything that happened to her and she lost her babies? A cold, wet nose touched her hand, and she turned to face Austin.

"You're such a good dog," she told him, even as she rubbed his cute, ugly face.

* * *

System Lord Selmak's First Prime, a man formerly known as Major General George Hammond was pleasantly surprised by how fast the battle had been won. Jacob, Selmak and he had discussed the upcoming battle, and they had decided that it would take at least a week for the Goa'uld System Lord of the week's defenses to fall.

Nope.

It took three days, and only a handful of wounded, so George was happy. They were on their way home, top speed, and he was looking forward to returning to his wife and her swelling belly. He missed her, he would admit to himself, and to no one else.

Sometimes, a man needed more than Austin to keep him company and keep him sane, and he was a very fortunate indeed, to have Samantha as his wife. Lately, their fragile relationship was settling into something… that might have potential. The change was noticeable in the little things that nobody else would have perceived, like how when he reached for her at night, she didn't flinch or tense up. When they visited her father and Janet, he'd put his hand on her shoulder, and she'd let him keep it there.

Occasionally when he was home, making sure she had eaten and had taken her medication, she'd even **_smile_** at him.

And wonders of wonders, one night, his wife had insisted on seeing his sketches, and to his stunned surprise, she had been genuinely flattered by how he envisioned her. Samantha was quite possibly one of the most beautiful women he ever known and what surprised him still, was that she was completely ignorant of her affect on any post-adolescent male. Hammond had always thought that, even years ago when he was her CO. When she grinned happily, her blue eyes sparking with excitement, she was **_breath-taking_**, and when she **_smiled_** at him, George knew full well that he was in danger of losing his heart to her.

And now that Samantha carried their children, she was absolutely stunning as she exemplified every pagan goddess of lust and fertility.

And that night when Samantha had viewed his sketches, he still couldn't believe that **_she_** had seduced **_him_**. She had **_actually_** seduced him, her hands touching and caressing his scarred carcass as though she had some sort of feelings… maybe… even a growing fondness…for the old scarred freak she had married under duress. When their love making was concluded, and he was wondering about this unexpected thaw in their relationship, she had fallen asleep in his arms.

George couldn't believe it, as he had been… _happy… _and that night had been first time he hadn't dreamed of Kayla and Tessa in a very long time.

Instead he dreamed of two little girls who looked like Samantha.

* * *

They were getting closer and closer to home, and he was growing more and more cheerful by the minute. Heck, Paul Davis was teasing him, which earned Paul concerned looks from the non-SGC members of the crew, but he didn't care. Sometimes, George allowed his former SGC acquaintances a little bit of leeway in joshing him.

And Paul Davis was his right hand man, as among his other duties, he always kept an eye out for whatever pilferage might be appreciated by the senior officer's spouses. Jake always got first choice, then George and then Paul and so on down the list.

Paul had pointed out a necklace this time, a dazzling, sparkling multitude of blue gems that just might be aquamarine.

George had been a little doubtful, as while he knew little about jewelry, no doubt this little piece would have put him back an entire year's salary back when he was actually collecting one. Jake had inspected it, and had immediately agreed that it was the necklace for Samantha.

"It's a little flashy," George protested, as he inspected it. "Matches her eyes though."

"Keep an eye out for matching earrings," Jake advised Paul, who agreed immediately. "George, she's gonna melt when she sees that. There's no woman on New Earth that would turn that down."

And so he had acquired it for his wife, and it was in his pocket. Like the fool he was, he was hoping that she'd like it.

"So, Sir, how's married life treating you?" Paul questioned softly during one of long shifts of returning back to the homeworld. "You look like you've lost some weight."

George barked a laugh and retorted, "It's only fair, she's putting it on, I should be taking it off."

"You're having twins, I heard?" Paul asked.

"Yes, she is," George drawled. "Two little girls and I hope to God, they look like her."

Paul Davis laughed and smiled, and George made an effort to smile also.

* * *

Naturally, the gods decided that his good mood was too enjoyable to last for long. When he got home, days earlier than he had expected, he found Samantha sleeping at the desk, and the desk was strewn with pages and pages of assorted calculations. Quietly, he picked one up, and he looked it over.

He never said he was the brightest bulb in the bunch, but he knew enough physics to know that she was trying to get home to her own time.

She was gonna leave him, and take the kids with her, no doubt. He was surprised how much that thought hurt him, though George wasn't sure what caused the greater amount of pain – the fact that Samantha wanted to go home, or that he'd lose his kids, all over again.

Knowing the bitch, she'd probably take Austin, too.

Hell, she'd probably take half the goddamn compound, to save them from him.

Trying to calm himself down didn't work, and a rather nagging thought bothered him.

When she was on the verge of a scientific breakthrough, Samantha would work night and day. How many times had he been forced to order her to leave the SGC for a break as she hadn't left her lab for days?

When was the last time she ate?

When was the last time she had taken her medication to help her with her pregnancy?

* * *

He counted the medication ampoules three times. She hadn't taken any in the last three days, and he tried to clamp down on the rage that he felt. Was Samantha trying to deliberately lose their babies? Samantha hadn't been happy to find out she was pregnant, but fool that he was, he thought that she had begun to care for the girls.

**_And you thought that she might actually care for you, you goddamned scarred fool. _**

She hadn't eaten anything he had prepared for her, and then he decided to check their bed to see if she had slept in it. It was neat, which meant nothing, but George had left her a small present under her pillow, a set of earrings that Janet had pointed out and remarked that Samantha had been looking at wistfully.

The box was there, under her pillow, unopened, unmoved.

George picked up his communicator, and punched in Janet Fraiser's number. It was a shame that he probably was interrupting one on one time for Jake and his wife, but he needed her here, now, to examine Samantha.

* * *

His gift had been a roaring success, and so System Lord Jake and his very pregnant wife were cuddling, kissing and just generally enjoying one of their last chances to act like a bunch of kids. Selmak was purring in the back of his head, a subtle reminder that he really owed Sel for picking out the necklace.

Then Janet's communicator went off, and Jake sighed when he saw who was calling.

"I thought if we got George married off, he'd stop interrupting us, but he calls us even more now," he growled. "Shouldn't he and my daughter be busy like us? I mean, come on, George…"

He growled again, and then picked up the phone.

"This better be important, as I've tied her to the bed and Selmak and I are having our way with her, George," Jake teased, as he was in a very good mood. "I'm using feathers and hot wax."

Janet slapped him gently for saying that, which earned her a blown kiss of apology from her smiling husband. Then he waved his hand, and he sat up. His smile was gone, and he sighed.

"No, no, no, I was kidding, George, she's not tied to the bedpost, and she's completely clothed. We'll be there in about ten minutes. But let me put her on so she can ask you some questions." He put his hand over the communicator and sighed.

"Sammy said that she'd behave when George was away. Well, apparently, she hasn't eaten, hasn't slept in her bed and she hasn't taken her medication, so George is really concerned as she's collapsed at George's desk, after having a burst of scientific inspiration."

Janet sat up, wallowing gracelessly for a bit, before gesturing for the communicator. She took it, and began snapping questions.

"I'll be there, George. Don't you panic, George… everything will be just fine, and of that, I'm sure. What I want you to do is put her into bed. Then give her four ampoules of the medication immediately. By that time, I should be there, if I'm not, give her a fifth," she explained.

Janet turned off the communicator, and looked at her husband.

"George is freaking out right now," she snapped. "You're going to have to calm him down, Jake."

* * *

He picked his wife up easily, as though she weighed no more than a small child, and he carried her to their bed. Naturally, Austin followed him, but fortunately the dog was behaving, so he put Samantha down in the middle of the bed. Then he began undressing her, and that earned a response from his wife.

"No… I'm tired…. Not too tonight… please…" she murmured.

George ignored her, even as he popped the first top off the ampoule with his thumb. Then he put the administration cap on the vial, and he inserted it into her symbiotic pouch, where he gave a slow push of the medication.

"Ten….nine… eight…" he counted backwards from ten slowly, as the medication had to be administered just so.

One vial down, now three to go, he thought as he grabbed the next container.

By the fourth ampoule, his thumb was cramping from "pushing" the thick medicine, Samantha was alert and orientated to time, place, location and self, and she was begging him to stop administering the drugs.

"George… please… stop….I can't stand… that stuff…. I can't… think…."

Grimly, he popped the lid off the fifth container, and he attached the administration port. Then, he felt a hand on his arm.

"George, I'm here," Janet assured him. "Go with Jake and I'll handle this here."

George was about to protest, when he felt Jake's hand on his arm.

"Come on, you and me, outside."

* * *

Naturally Jake, being the rather concerned father, wanted answers. He got into George's face, and for a moment, George debated the propriety of Selmak's First Prime knocking his System Lord onto his System Lord's ass. Unfortunately for George's dark mood, but fortunately for Jake and Selmak's continuing good health, George's inherent good manners won out.

"What the **_hell_** is going on with you two?" questioned the very concerned father.

"Jake, your daughter wants to go home," George informed him.

"She is home," Jake protested, before he narrowed his eyes. "Oh… wait… she wants to go back in time, George?"

He nodded.

"George, doesn't she know that she didn't make it home?" Jake questioned. "Oh, how I loathe temporal physics."

"So, she obviously thinks that I'm drugging her into submission," George spat. "Like I enjoy coming home to the zombie that's impersonating my wife. There are times I have to feed her, wash her and dress her like she's two years old, Jake!"

"You didn't tell her **_why_** she has to take the medication?" Samantha's father questioned.

"Well, dear, because of your little suicide attempt, combined with nearly overworking yourself to death, there's a very high risk you'll miscarry if you don't take these drugs faithfully. I didn't want to scare her, Jake; she already acts like a long tailed cat in a room full of rockers," George explained in an exasperated tone, before turning almost deadly quiet. "Jake, she doesn't want the kids. She'd be quite happy if she lost them."

"No, George, you're getting a little paranoid," Jake quickly inserted. "She wants them. Janet tells me that all the time. Samantha will talk freely with Janet, more freely than with me."

"Then why did I find her at my desk, having used three notebooks to draw out various calculations?" George protested. "I've tried seven ways to Sunday to make her happy, Jake, but it's just not working. Samantha wants to go home, and she doesn't care if she kills our daughters in the process."

He paused, trying to calm himself down, but he knew that Jake comprehended how much that thought pained him. Jake put his hand on George' shoulder and squeezed.

"I'll talk to her, George. I know you haven't wanted me to stick my nose into your relationship with my daughter, but I think I need to talk to her."

George nodded and then he whispered the most painful blow of all to Jake, "I think she was planning on taking Austin, also."

"Samantha was going to take Austin? George… that's cruel… taking a man's dog," Jake teased, and then he sighed when he realized that the other man was deadly serious. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

* * *

George was home early.

**_Three_** days early.

He had caught her sleeping at his desk, and put her to bed. Then George had begun medicating her even while she had pleaded with him not to do so. Now Janet was drugging her still more and she tried to keep conscious.

"Why do you drug me?" Sam questioned.

"You have to take this medication to keep from miscarrying, Samantha," Janet informed her. "When you had that rejection episode with the previous symbiote, it caused a chemical imbalance which led to your physical collapse. The queen symbiote isn't mature enough to handle keeping the four of you healthy."

Janet stroked her hair. She meant it to be a comforting gesture, but Samantha was realizing more and more that she had no idea who to trust. Janet was married to her father, and her father wasn't sane. Plus, System Lord Selmak scared the hell out of her on the few times that they had conversed, as Selmak was absolutely ruthless in obtaining his goal of a Goa'uld free universe.

What if Selmak knew that she was trying to get home?

"Samantha, your father wants to talk to you," Janet informed her. "Is that ok?"

Sam nodded her head, and whispered, "I'm tired though…"

"He won't be long, I promise," Janet assured her. Then the diminutive doctor tried to give her a hug, and then she laughed. "Our bellies seem to be getting in the way."

An exhausted Sam smiled and then she fell into a half-doze.

* * *

"Sammy?" her father called.

"Don't want to go to school," she mumbled, as she snuggled under the covers.

"Sammy, it's been years since you got your doctorate," her father informed her. "Are you doing some post-graduate work on Stargate-based temporal mechanics that I need to know about?"

She woke with a gasp, and her father put his hand on her shoulder.

"Easy, Samantha, easy. Are you trying to get home?" Jake questioned. "George has the notebooks that you were working on."

"I had some free time, I wanted to try and figure out how I got here," she lied.

His dark eyes narrowed, and he sighed. "How are things with you and George?"

"Wonderful," she lied, before putting her hand on her belly. "He's quite thrilled about the babies."

"Samantha, why does George tell me that you're unhappy? George has this crazy idea that you want to go back in time. Samantha, you never made it home, believe me, I lived through it. I thought you were dead…" Her father paused, and Sam was surprised to realize that he was near tears.

"And with you dead and Mark dead, it broke my heart. Now, you're here, it's like I have a second chance. If I have to Samantha, I'll put on a guard on you, so you don't try to get home, because I don't want you to die. I lived through that once, I can't live through that again," he informed her.

"And now, you're gonna be a mom, and you made George so happy, do you know that? Look, I know you would have never looked at George if I hadn't married you two off, but I was worried. You've made so terrible romantic choices, I don't want to mention that ex-fiancée of yours, but you know who I'm talking about…"

"Jonas," she whispered.

"I hated Hanson, as he wasn't good enough for my little girl," Jake confessed. "Now, I want to know, are you and George ok? He's really upset right now; he's talking crazy about you trying to go back home to the day you disappeared and how you don't want the kids. He even thinks that you're taking his dog on this little temporal joint of yours…"

"I want my daughters, I love them," she protested.

"George isn't the same man you knew," her father told her.

"Haven't noticed the change," she said.

Her father quirked an eyebrow at her, obviously uncertain in how she meant it.

"Samantha, you've given me back George. He used to have these periods of depressions, where he would sit in his room, and stare at the pictures of his grandkids for **_hours_**, Samantha. I swear, I really thought that his only friend he had besides me was that dog of his, as even Janet was getting creeped out by him. But since you two got together, he's walking, he's talking and he's functioning. I need him **_functioning_**, Samantha, as he's a better tactical officer than I am. He and Selmak have been winning this war of ours, and it's only because of them that there's anybody from Earth left alive."

"Sammy, I know that your relationship with George isn't perfect, and I know it's not a storybook romance, but he's a decent man, he'll do right by you. Just give him a chance, Sammy."

For a moment, Samantha wanted to tell her father that she lived in fear of that decent man and his temper, but she realized that Selmak was watching. She couldn't trust anyone... especially not Selmak.

"I'll try, Dad, but he does have a temper," she admitted.

"I know, but he'd never do anything to you. He might get mad at you, but that's it, nothing more," her father said firmly.

She nodded her head, and then Janet stuck her head in.

"George wants to see you, Samantha."

"Send him in," she whispered.

"Remember what I said, ok?" Jake requested, just before hugging her. "I love you, I know I never say that enough, and especially when you were younger, but I do. I want to spend more time with you now, if only things weren't so chaotic."

"I love you too, Dad," Samantha agreed.

* * *

Jake left the room, and he stopped George by placing his hand on his chest before George entered the room.

"Don't yell at her," he warned George. "Pamper her, George."

George's disgusted look and the roll of his eye plainly said what he thought of **_that_** advice and Samantha's father getting involved in the relationship between George and Samantha.

"Trust me; just be gentle with her, George."

Entering the room, he found Samantha drugged to the gills. She was lethargic and she appeared dazed.

"Samantha," he called out her name softly, and he was rewarded with her glazed blue eyes looking in his direction. "We're gonna talk, dear. I'm not happy with you, do you understand me?"

His wife shook her head and murmured a protest.

"No, you're going to shut up and you're going listen to me. Perhaps you don't know me that well, but this is my face when I'm **_really_** angry. You told me that you were going to behave, Samantha, dear. That meant you'd take your medication, you'd rest and you'd eat. You didn't do any of that, Samantha, and that means you were a very bad girl."

"And since you were a very bad girl, you don't get your present," George growled.

Damn it, he was furious with her, and she just was staring at him blankly. Gods above knew how much he loathed the drugs he gave her; and how they turned her bright eyes dull.

"Now, there are some new ground rules, dear. You will take your medication. You will follow your instructions from Janet, because if you purposely loose those babies, like you're trying to do right now, I will not be happy."

He paused, and then he continued, "If I find out that you deliberately hurt our girls, Samantha, I will make your life a complete and living hell, and by the time I'm done with you, it will make my past eight years of never ending misery seem like a fucking picnic, **_do I make myself clear_**?"

His zoned-out wife of the blank-eyes and flat affect just nodded her head in agreement. Samantha was like a living china doll, porcelain skin, bright blue eyes and absolutely nothing between the ears.

"We'll talk later, dear, but I wanted you to understand that I'm not happy," he growled. "Do you promise that you'll behave?"

Samantha looked at him, and there was a momentary glint in her eyes for just a brief moment, and then she nodded her head.

"Good, that's all I want, Samantha, is for you and the girls to be healthy. You know that, right?"

Once again there was the faintest glimmer of intelligence in her eyes and another nod of her head.

"Good," George whispered softly. "I don't like doing this to you, Samantha, but I got to prevent you from hurting yourself and the babies."

Another nod.

"Well, damn me for a fool, but I'll give you your gift anyway," George muttered.

Damn fool that he was, he opened the box and showed her the necklace. It was the glittery aquamarine necklace and he showed it to her.

"Thought it matched your eyes, dear," he informed her. "I'll try and find earrings to match. Do you like it?"

His wife looked at him and nodded her head.

"Pretty," she whispered.

"Like you are, like the girls will be, but you have to behave, Samantha…." He paused, not wanting to admit this particular weakness to anyone, especially HER, "I keep telling you, I won't survive losing them… or you…Promise me if you're pregnant, you won't attempt to go back in time."

If Samantha agreed to that, she'd stay put. Then hopefully, she'd get so attached to her children that she wouldn't leave them, and she wouldn't take them back because they wouldn't exist.

"PROMISE ME," he growled.

Samantha nodded her head in agreement.

Damn it, he was losing control again, and those dangerous emotions that George had learned to repress were threatening to break free. Hesitantly, he kissed her on her forehead, and he told her to go to sleep.

"Tomorrow will be a better day," George assured her. "You just concentrate on sleeping."

And then he left her in the bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 6

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak. Things rapidly go down hill from there.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely. To read this fic, you need one bottle of bleach to scrub your mind out, as one of the pairings is a bit unusual.

Synopsis: SG1 has gone ahead in time approximately eight years, and the future ain't pretty.

When we last left Samantha Carter, she's been a very bad girl, and the monsters from his past are riding George's shoulders.

* * *

Samantha turned onto her side, and tried curling up into a ball. She couldn't, as she was awkward at the best of times these days, and she was drugged. Something bright and sparkling caught her eyes and it took a while for her to focus.

Necklace. Blue stones.

George and his threat, spoken quietly in his harsh Texas twang.

_By the time I'm done with you, it will make my past eight years of never ending misery seem like a fucking picnic._

Something large moved in the bed, and she muttered, "No… George… not tonight… please…"

Samantha nearly wept in relief when she realized that it was Austin in bed with her.

* * *

George sat down heavily on the couch and sighed. His eye was hurting something fierce and he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep. So he had put in an old video in the TV, even though he had long ago memorized it from countless viewings.

"Grandpa?" said the little girl on the TV screen, even as George's lips moved in synch with the words. "I'm scared."

She was one of the two most beautiful little girls in the world, and her counterpart was crying.

"They hurt Kayla," the little girl continued even as George continued to mouth the words. "They said they won't hurt me, if you do what they want, Grandpa."

"Don't cry, Tessa," he whispered, hearing his voice echo on the tape. "How's your mom and your dad?"

"Mommy's hurt really bad. A bad man hit her and she won't wake up…." Tessa explained.

And so George conversed with his dead all the long night through.

**

* * *

**

Samantha slept deeply, and then she felt a cold nose on her back.

"Austin," she growled, when the dog continued to nudge her. "What?"

She sat up, and realized that she felt remarkably well-rested and healthy. The dog wasn't content that she was awake, no; instead, he gently mouthed her hand, and gave it a gentle pull.

"You need to go out?" Samantha asked the dog.

The dog continued to tug on her hand gently, and so Samantha got out of bed, and followed the dog. Austin would go a few feet, then turn around, wag his tail and then trot down a few more feet after confirming that she was following him.

Austin led to the living room, where George was sitting silently on the couch. He was watching what appeared to be a blood splattered horror movie, and then Samantha realized **_WHAT_** he was watching.

"I'm sorry, Kayla… forgive your granddad, won't you?" George said softly, his spoken voice merging with the voice on tape as the Jaffa put the knife against Kayla's neck.

**_He's repeating the tape verbatim! George's watching them kill his grandchildren?_**

"I'm so sorry, Kayla, I am," George whispered, even as his words were cut off when Samantha turned off the TV. "But you'll be meeting Grandma Marie soon… tell her Granddad still loves her…very, very much."

It was a macabre version of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, as George continued to quote the script even with the TV off.

"Don't cry, Kayla…."

He stopped for a moment, and then he started speaking in a lifeless monotone.

"Grandpa? I'm scared. They hurt Kayla. They said they won't hurt me, if you do what they want, Grandpa."

"George?" Samantha called.

"Don't cry, Tessa. How's your mom and your dad?"

Reaching out, Samantha put her hand on George's shoulder and she shook him hard. His head flopped back and forth for a bit, and then he continued speaking.

"Mommy's hurt really bad. A bad man hit her and she won't wake up…."

"George?" Samantha called.

Austin trotted over to where George was, and he sat in front of him. Tilting his head for a bit, he nudged George's hand. Getting no response from his nudges, Austin then stretched and put his upper body into George's lap. He butted George's chest with his large head for a bit, and then he began licking George's face.

The physical shock seemed to break George's fugue. He began stroking Austin's head and the dog made whimpering noise of sheer delight.

"Easy boy…" George whispered. "Not gonna let anything ever happen to you…You're the only thing I got left…"

Samantha rubbed her eyes, even while her heart was breaking as she compared the man George had once been and the shattered wreck he was now.

"George…" she whispered. "Come on… it's late… come to bed…"

George blinked and looked at the clock. He seemed startled by what time it was.

"I must have fallen asleep watching TV," he stated. "I sat down to watch something for a few minutes after I left you, and I must have been more tired than I realized if I fell asleep on the couch."

**_You were watching that video for the last four hours, George_**, Samantha thought to herself. _**Over and over again, you were watching them kill your family.**_

"Samantha… you're upset, what's the problem? Did I upset you?" Hammond questioned as he looked at her.

"Come on, George, let's go to bed," Samantha suggested.

Then she placed her hand on his face, as she leaned over him. Hesitantly, moved by the strange emotion she was feeling towards him. Was it fear? Pity? Mercy? Samantha didn't know, but she kissed him on his mouth, and George was so startled by her boldness that he didn't respond.

"Samantha, you were sick," George protested. "I don't want you overexerting yourself."

"George… come on," Samantha said softly, as she extended her hand out to him.

He took her hand, gingerly, and then she placed her other hand over his.

"Come on, George."

* * *

Hesitantly, she undressed George, as he sat on the side of their bed. He seemed dazed, unable to undress himself, incapable of doing anything else besides putting his hands on her belly.

George whispered, "Kayla and Tessa would have been old enough to babysit them…"

He swallowed, and Samantha found herself swallowing a matching lump in her throat.

"Do you understand, Samantha? I don't mean to frighten you…but you don't take your medication…you don't care if you miscarry."

"George…" Samantha protested.

"You want to go back in time…I don't know what would happen to the girls if you went back in time and you were pregnant. Would you still be pregnant? Would you tell me that I was the father? Would they even exist?"

George's voice grew quieter.

"Would… Kinsey find out about them? Would I have to watch them die and never realize that I was their father?"

Long pause, while Sam felt the earth beneath her feet turn to quicksand.

"You'd tell me, wouldn't you?" He questioned in a soft, pleading voice. "Tell me you would."

"Tell you what?" Samantha answered.

"If you managed to make it home on that day, and you were pregnant, would you tell me? Or would you be mortified that your CO had impregnated you?"

George stared at her for a long time, even while her mind fumbled with a coherent answer.

"You **_wouldn't_** tell me," George decided in an angry voice. "You **_wouldn't_** tell me, would you? You'd **_keep_** this from me?"

"George, I'm never getting home," Samantha reminded him.

"Go home, Samantha," George told her in a very angry voice. "Find your way home, go back to the past. And you can return to your life and pretend this never happened. But it won't work, you know why? Because, congratulations, dear, you're pregnant. You'll be living in fear of what I'll do when I realize that I've fathered those children you're carrying."

"I will find out the truth…" snapped her husband. "Try to hide it, and I'll find out. I always know when you're trying to hide something."

"George…" Samantha protested softly. "Please… please… stop it…"

She sat down next to him on the bed; put her chin in her hand and she started to cry.

He put his arm around her, hesitantly, and George began to apologize.

"I'm sorry, dear… I just get worried…and I can't stop worrying… about the babies, about you… about everything…I don't mean to get angry, but I worry so."

Samantha nodded her head, and then she finished wiping her eyes.

"George, will you stop accusing me and just hold me," Samantha requested. "Please? You make my head spin with your accusations, and I'm tired."

It took a little maneuvering until she was comfortable, but she fell asleep with George's arm wrapped around her.

And she dreamed.

She was walking down the gate, well… **_waddling_**… as she was easily nine months gone with the twins. To her happy surprise, the rest of the SG1 was with her, even though she **_knew_** that they were dead. Hammond was standing at the bottom of the ramp, his warm smile of happy welcome being replaced by a stunned look of absolute shock as he saw her tremendously expectant condition.

"M-M-MMajor **_CARTER_**?" Hammond stammered.

He was staring at her, his blank incomprehension being replaced by his intuitive grasp of the ugly truth and who the unhappy father really was. There was never ever hiding anything from Hammond. Samantha gave him a weak smile, even as she rubbed her aching back.

It was then that her water broke with a mighty slosh, on the ramp in the middle of the Gate Room. Her team helped her to the floor, as her contractions were coming right on top of each other, with barely a chance for her to catch her breath.

To her shame, Hammond pulled her pants down, and his hands were between her legs, as he examined her to see if the babies' heads were crowning. Fortunately, George had been wearing his jacket, so he had used that to give her some sort of privacy. The General was looking a tad green, and he was swallowing frantically, as though he was about to lose his lunch.

"Get a tank," Hammond roared. "Get me as many of them as you can. Where's **_Fraiser_**?"

"**_Tank_**? We need a goddamn **_Incubator_**," she retorted, screaming through the pain.

George was holding something in his hand, something small, limp and snakelike that had one time wiggled and jiggled and trembled inside of her.

She began screaming when she realized what it was.

"Samantha… you're not having human babies," Daniel informed her. "You're spawning **_symbiotes_**… there are thousands of them on the ramp, dying because they're out of water."

That thought caused her to wake up screaming, and George put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. He slowly kissed the back of her neck, and his hand began playing with her breast. George stopped for a moment while he kissed her ear; and then Samantha flinched when she heard his voice in her ear.

"Having a nightmare? Let's make some pleasant memories shall we? And scare away the bogeyman."

* * *

In time, Janet gave birth to a boy, Malcolm Jacob Carter, who appeared to be a perfectly healthy baby boy, and for first time since Bra'tac's death, Sam saw her father laugh and smile in true delight.

George was even smiling, she could tell, and was truly delighted for her father, who was busy showing off Malcolm. Janet was busy sleeping in the other room, so it was just the four of them.

"Look at him, Sammy, isn't he beautiful? He takes after his mother, because I was never that cute, even as a kid," his father told her joyfully, as he cradled his son. "And you're going to have your own children soon, Sammy. You'll be a great mom, and you've made George so happy, do you know that?"

Sam had just smiled weakly, as she really couldn't think of anything appropriate to say.

"Only a few more months, Sammy," Jake repeated. "You're still looking tired though. George is treating you right, isn't he?"

"It's not easy getting comfortable these days," she lied, subtly reinforcing her lie by putting her hand on her distended belly, but only after making sure the sleeves of the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing covered her latest bruises from George. Last night had been a very bad night.

Then she had her recurring nightmare where the Real General Hammond attempted and failed at giving her a message. The location and the other particulars of the dreams always changed, but it always ended the same.

Last night, it had been the two of them in the old Conference room at the SGC. The General had been sitting in his chair, perpendicular to the table and she had been facing him. He was leaning toward her, his hands holding on to hers tightly. He stared at her extremely pregnant belly in horror, and then he looked in her eyes and he had spoken to her.

Over and over she had dreamt that dream last night, with Hammond growing more and more distressed that she couldn't comprehend him. But at least last night, he hadn't died in her dreams, nor had she dreamed that she had given birth to twenty million symbiotes that took over the SGC within minutes.

That dream had happened just twice, and that had been quite enough, thank you!

"I didn't sleep well last night, as the girls are trying to find an escape route, I think, with their feet and hands."

"George?" Jake called.

"Yes?" George questioned. He walked over to Samantha, and put his hand on her back.

To her surprise, as George normally wasn't very demonstrative, he began rubbing her lower back.

"Your back's tight," George mumbled in disaproval.

"She looks exhausted, take her home," Jake insisted.

"I want to hold Malcolm," she protested. "You haven't let me hold him yet."

She held out her arms, and her father carefully put his son into her arms. Malcolm was sleeping, and she held him close to her, enjoying the chance to hold such a small life in her arms.

"Only ten more weeks or so, Samantha, and you'll be holding ours," George reminded her before he kissed her on cheek. "I just don't think you'll go the full forty weeks, dear. Samantha, I'm praying that they're as pretty as their mother."

Sam smiled tiredly at him, and he put his hand on her face. His blue eye stared at her, and Sam was trapped by what emotions she saw in it. Compassion, tenderness…and an overwhelming awareness of pain and sorrow.

No, it was**_ General Hammond_** who was looking at her, not the other personalities.

"You look exhausted, Samantha, you really should go home and rest," instructed George. "Jacob, please make sure that you give Janet our congratulations, but tell her I wanted to put Samantha to bed."

Jacob took his son back, and wished them a good night.

* * *

System Lord Selmak was admiring her handiwork. Malcolm was a beautiful baby boy, with cute little chubby legs and dark curly hair. And her host? Jacob was happy, delighted and cheerful. It was like he had once been such a long, long time ago.

Selmak entered the room where Janet was sleeping, and she wasn't surprised to see that Janet was awake.

"Let me hold him," Janet protested.

"You've been holding him for the last forty weeks, Janet, let Jacob and me hold him for a bit," Selmak teased. "Are you still sore?"

"A little," she admitted.

"I'll use the healing device on you again, but you can't hold Malcolm when I use it," Selmak decided.

"Sure," Janet said. "But let me nurse him first. He's probably hungry as you've been showing off. Such a cruel daddy you have."

Malcolm wisely didn't say anything, but Jacob laughed.

"I love you, Janet. I love you so much, do you know that?" He whispered. "With you, I can be myself."

The two of them kissed for a bit, and then Malcolm made a fussing noise.

"He's hungry," Jake decided.

"Breast man like his dad," Janet snickered, as she maneuvered the baby to her breast where Malcolm immediately latched on. "Ow! You're not a Hoover vacuum!"

"George and Sam seemed happy together," Jake informed his wife softly. "Maybe things are better between them."

Janet smiled at Jacob, and then smiled as their son. "I love you, Malcolm and I love you, Jake."

Then Janet laughed softly, and spoke, "And Selmak?"

"Yes, Janet?"

"I love you, too."

* * *

Hammond was pensive while they walked back to their quarters, and he continued brooding even after they were in bed. George was sitting up and Samantha was reclining against him. His large hands were playing with her belly, trying to disturb the twins and cause them to kick.

"Have I thanked you recently?" He questioned her.

"About what?" She answered.

"All the chances you've been giving me. No matter what I do, you always give me another chance, because you remember what I was once. Only you, Jake and Janet remember what I used to be like, no one else does. I know what they say about me behind my back and how they call me a cold blooded monster." General Hammond whispered intently. "I'm sorry about hitting you last night. I don't remember doing it, but I must have."

"You were having a nightmare," Sam lied.

Well, it was partially true as George did have nightmares, and she was usually battered and bruised whenever he had one.

"I have these episodes where I black out," he explained. "Then when I'm aware again, I've done things for which I can't believe I'm responsible, but I am, as I've got blood on my hands. You gotta help me, Samantha. I think I'm going… **_insane_**."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"You've got to help me, Samantha. You and the girls keep me going, if anything happens to you or to them, I wouldn't be able to handle it."

"Don't say that George, please, you're scaring me," Samantha responded. "What do you want me to do to help you?"

"Don't you give up on me," he whispered. "The day you give up on me is the day I kill myself, Samantha."

He began kissing the side of her neck, and Samantha tried not to tremble, for this was the first time **_General Hammond_** had kissed her.

"Help me remember who I was," he pleaded. "I want… I need… to be that man again, Samantha, but the only time he's alive, is when I'm with you. It's because of this."

George then put his hand on her belly.

"If anything happens to you or to them, remember, I won't be able to handle it," he warned her. "Please, just don't forget the man I once was before I destroyed everything I had ever loved."

He began kissing her again, all the while murmuring how she was his bright angel of sanity.

* * *

Samantha was dog-tired, and General Hammond seemed delighted. She was lying in his arms, and he was stroking her hair.

"For a young girl like you to get exhausted by an old man like me, I must have done something right," he teased.

She nodded her head in agreement. Truthfully, she had been rather surprised by General Hammond as a lover. The General was rather… diffident, George was rough and … the other was terrifying but General Hammond as a lover…

Well… self-assured, gentlemanly and yet most assuredly, playfully naughty, was the only description her exhausted mind could come up with. The General had always seemed so self-contained and reserved behind his dress blues never had she guessed that he was like this! Tonight had definitely been a **_Top Ten Night_**… if not **_The Best Sex Ever_** in her rather limited experience, except for the fact that her lover was **_General Hammond_**.

"I love you," he told her.

Her heart froze, and he continued stroking her hair. Then he kissed the top of her head gently.

"I know you don't love me, so don't feel like you need to lie. That's ok; Samantha, but you love our daughters right?" He questioned.

"I love them with all my heart," she assured him.

"Then I hope you have a little fondness for their father," he teased, before turning serious. "That will be enough for me."

She nodded her head and Hammond laughed in delight.

"Let's talk about names, Samantha. What do you want to name them?" George questioned.

The two of the argued playfully about names for another hour or so, and then George began kissing her which led to yet another demonstration on how seriously Texas Gentleman prided themselves on satisfying their partners.

Then they discussed possible names again, until George was drowsy. His voice was slurring into sleep even while he was insisting on his refusal to call any of his daughters, Katorah, even if it did run in Samantha's family. On day two hundred and fifty-five of her captivity, Samantha realized that she loved the shattered wreck of a man that once was General Hammond.

And she wept.

Hammond stirred long enough to put his arms around her.

"There, there, there…dear… I'll treat you better, you'll see…" he mumbled softly.

* * *

The Honeymoon lasted all of a day, before George showed up. She was lying in bed, still trying to recover from a rather overly exuberant night, when she felt George's hand slap her not so gently on her rear.

"Get up, girl, you've had the last three months off to let your belly swell, but I need you to get back to work," George informed her, "You're a bomb maker, remember? Not just a baby incubator. The boys in the lab have finally caught up with their backlog, but you have to go there and test them now. I talked to Janet, and we're going to wean you off that medication, as you claim it makes you fuzzy."

She nodded her head in tired agreement and then George put his hand on her chin, and forced her to look at him.

"You're not working more than two hours today, you hear me? McKay and Zelenka have been covering for you while you were out, so don't let them tell you otherwise. Davis and Siler know that if either the Mouth that Roared or Zelenka gives any problems, I'll handle it," George warned. "Zelenka won't, I'm sure, as he's asked about you, but you remember how McKay is."

Samantha smiled and murmured a thank you.

"Now let's get you washed and dressed."

* * *

After George had fed, watered, walked, medicated and dressed her, George and a sept of security personnel escorted her to her lab, and she realized anew how isolated she had been in the last few months. The only people she had seen had been her father, Janet, Siler, Walt Davis and Paul Davis…. Oh… and George, too, but her jailer really didn't count.

It might have been the second glances everyone was giving her, but unexpectedly she realized that everyone thought the reason why she hadn't been seen in the last three months was because George had put her into a hospital bed.

How… **_reassuring_**…

By the time she got to her office, she was exhausted, but Siler and Davis were their usual efficient selves. There was a new leather sofa in her office, and she sank into it gratefully.

"If you need to lie down, you do so," George reminded her. "Siler and Davis will get you caught up on what you missed."

George walked out after having a whispered discussion with both Davis and Siler. The two men agreed with ever George said, and George gave Siler an approving slap on the back.

"I knew I could trust you two to keep your eyes on her and you won't let her overdo it," George warned. "I'll be back, Samantha, and remember don't overexert yourself."

She was getting as crazy as George was, because when George left her office, she would have sworn she heard "The Imperial Death March" from Star Wars.

_Da…da…da..da.da.da.da.da.da.daaaaa. Daaaaaaaaa…da..da…da…da.da.da.da.da da…_

She smiled at Davis and Siler, and then asked, "What's new, guys? What did I miss?"

Siler and Davis did that eye flicker maneuver between the two of them, which meant they were deciding which one would speak first. Ah… Siler lost... so she turned to face him.

"You look good, Ma'am. We've been asking George about you," Siler said quickly.

"Siler, we've been friends for a long time, ever since we worked at the SGC, so cut the crap," Samantha snapped. "I look **_huge_**."

Like she was hoping, her comment made the two men relax, and she motioned for them to pull up chairs so she could be updated.

* * *

Fifteen minutes into her briefing, Rodney McKay stormed into the room.

"Samantha, so nice of you to come join the rest of the lab rats," he snapped. "While you've been enjoying your honeymoon, Zelenka and I have been working our fingers to the bone."

McKay stormed and raved for a bit while both Davis and Siler tried to settle him down.

"No, I won't settle down, just because you're sleeping with the boss, Samantha, doesn't mean I can't complain about you leaving us in the lurch…"

"Dr. McKay," said a very calm voice. "I don't like what I'm hearing. I believe that an apology to my wife will be immediately forthcoming, will it not? I understand that you've been overworked since my wife went out on medical leave, but you shouldn't take it out on her."

McKay was on a tear, and he failed to see that both Siler and Davis' facial expressions were worried.

"NO, I won't apologize to her," McKay said, as he turned to face Hammond. "You and System Lord Selmak decided that she was in charge of the lab, and then she goes out on an extended honeymoon."

George slammed McKay against the wall with one hand, even while his other hand ripped McKay's symbiote out of his womb. The symbiote hissed and squirmed in its frustration, and McKay abruptly realized the seriousness of the situation, as George was squeezing McKay's symbiote between his thumb and middle fingers. McKay's symbiote hissed in annoyance each time George's thick fingers squeezed.

"I don't like you, McKay," George rumbled. "You are a fucking drama queen, but I tolerated you only because you got results. You insult my wife, you insult me, and I will not stomach any more."

McKay's color was poor and he was diaphoretic, and he made a feeble grab for his symbiote.

"I didn't hear you apologize, Rodney," the First Prime of Selmak said.

"I'm sorry, Samantha, I've just been really stressed," Rodney said quickly. "You know how I get when I get stressed, my blood sugar gets wacky and silly me starts mouthing off."

"You don't sound sincere," the First Prime informed him. "I want sincerity, and a promise that you'll be on your best behavior from now on, Rodney."

Rodney screamed another apology and George shook his head.

"Sincere, but a little bit… overdramatic… I'm tired of your hysterics, Rodney. Try it again."

Samantha watched horrified as Rodney repeatedly apologized and George refused to accept Rodney's apology. She tried to accept Rodney's third, fourth and fifth apologies but George shook his head.

"Again," Hammond growled. "AGAIN…"

"Samantha, I am so sorry," Rodney wept. "Please… please…forgive me…"

"**_AND_**?" George prompted.

"I realize that you've been ill, and that's why you haven't been working," Rodney continued.

"And?" George prompted again

"You're a better astrophysicist than I will ever be, and I'm **_jealous_**," Rodney whimpered. "That's why I act like such a complete ass!"

"Ok, I accept your apology," Samantha blurted. "Just don't do it again, Rodney, please."

George frowned, and then he put the symbiote back into Rodney's pouch. McKay sank to the ground, whimpering, and George sighed.

"Shut up, McKay, you're fine. But if I ever hear even the slightest rumor that you're badmouthing my wife, I will find out," Hammond warned McKay in a very cheerful voice. "Siler, Davis, drag him back to his office, please."

Then everyone left her office, and Samantha was still sitting on the couch when Dr. Zelenka popped his head into the doorway. Obviously, McKay's comeuppance at the hands of Hammond was making the rounds of the lab. That meant within two hours, everyone on New Earth would know. She sighed, and rubbed her belly.

**_Daddy means well, but he just goes about it the wrong way_**, she thought to her children.

"Samantha?" He asked in his heavily accented English. "I did not think those things about you. I know you have been ill. I hope you know that and that I sincerely prayed for your health. I always asked the First Prime whenever I saw him, how you and the children were doing."

"Boris, I know that," Samantha insisted. "Please, come in and tell me what you've been doing while I've been out."

Zelenka smiled uncertainly, and nodded his head.

* * *

The days passed quickly, and in the proper time, she gave birth to two little girls. George had stayed with her during her labor, and he had been a nervous wreck. He hadn't said anything, he had just sat there, all the while holding on to her hand tightly, occasionally stroking her face with a trembling hand, slipping her an ice chip now and then and wiping her face with a cool, wet cloth.

He was so solemn, so damn intense, so obviously worried about her and the girls.

Abigail Marie was the oldest, and the younger by a mere ten minutes was Hannah Elizabeth. Abigail was named for her mom and on the spur of the moment, Samantha had changed Abigail's agreed upon middle name of Catherine to Marie for George's first wife. Her largesse had made George tear up, and Janet and Jacob had fled from the room, allowing George some privacy.

Samantha couldn't explain **_why_** she had changed Abby's middle name to Marie, perhaps it was an attempt to recognize George's losses, but … sometimes, the complexity and enormity of George's grief was overwhelming.

God, she ached, even after Janet used the healing device on her, but nursing her newborns daughters… made everything worth it.

George moved from the chair and sat down on the side of the bed. He tentatively held out his hands.

"Dear, let help you hold them," he requested.

She nodded her head in appreciation.

On day three hundred and fifteen since Samantha's arrival, Samantha Carter nursed her newborn daughters while George Hammond watched her with a haunted expression in his eyes.

* * *

His wife was sleeping in bed, and he was still sitting in the chair that was close to the bed. Samantha was tired and needed her rest, so George had already decided that he'd sleep in the chair for the first few nights, and then sleep on the couch. That way he'd be close enough in case she needed anything, yet hopefully he wouldn't disturb her sleep.

But for now, he was holding Hannah in his arms, gently rocking her. Abby was already asleep, but Hannah was still awake. But she was getting tired, he could tell, as she was yawning.

A faded memory came to mind. For a split second, it was Marie sleeping in bed, exhausted from childbirth and he was holding Marjorie once again. He was a barely a man, a scared young boy with a young wife and a newborn far, far away from family and friends in Texas.

And the orders to go fight a god forsaken war in a far off country would be coming soon. George had known that, and he had been trying to memorize Marie and the baby. He'd keep 'em close to his heart, and return home safe to them.

_I still remember you, Marie. But I wonder, sometimes, if you recognized the man I've become. Or if you'd want to, _George thought.

As he held his newborn daughter in his arms, George Hammond wondered about the events that had changed that scared young boy into a scared old man.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 7

Author: Selmak

Explanation of the Story : I desired placing our stoic George into an unique situation, stretching him long past the limits of human endurance and breaking him. This story details George's passage of self-destruction and redemption. I really do like the character of George, I just don't think we've ever seen him with his face dirty and his hair messy and it would be interesting to having him deal with the ramifications. How will a fundamentally respectable and decent guy handle the news that in the future, he's not such a decent guy after all?

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction and in this chapter, it turns even darker.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely. To read this fic, you need one bottle of bleach to scrub your mind out, as one of the pairings is a bit unusual.

Synopsis: It was bound to happen, the roller coaster known as the life of Selmak's First Prime George goes off the rails. Who gets hurt?

Minor tweaking 3/28/05

* * *

Three months after the birth of Abigail & Hannah. We return to the story to find ourselves in the thick of all the action. 

It has been relatively calm in Samantha's life. George is besotted with his daughters and Jake and Janet are doting on their young son, Malcolm. Even Selmak has to admit that Malcolm is the cutest baby she's ever seen, though she'd probably kill you before she admitted it.

* * *

His life consisted of one word. 

**_Agony_**.

Pain that kept crescendoing to new, exquisite levels of agony.

"George?" Jake screamed at him. "Can you hear me, George?"

Sam Hell was that really him screaming, George thought. Right eye gone, he was in a murky land awash in agony and never-ending darkness, and he continued wailing his suffering as he was long past human speech.

He was **_blind_**.

Both eyes **_gone. _**

The unbelievably sickening sweet, nauseating smell of his scorched flesh filled his nostrils.

He couldn't reach for his side arm to end it, because they were holding his hands down. But he couldn't see, so he'd probably miss. With his luck, he'd shoot Jake and Selmak.

**_Oh God, oh God, why have you abandoned me to this never ending hell?_**

**_

* * *

_**

"Listen to me, we're gonna get you in the sarcophagus. Hang on, only a few more minutes," Jake yelled. "Hang on, George. You gotta hang on, George, for Abby and Hannah. They'll want their daddy, George."

George screamed a name out loud.

"What did he say?" Siler questioned roughly, as he had both hands on George's left arm, and he was trying to restrain him. "It didn't sound like Samantha… or Sam…"

"Paul," Walt Davis inserted quickly as he had George's right arm. "He's asking about Paul."

"Paul's hurt, George, but you saved his sorry Pentagon ass," Jake roared. "Next time, you let the fucking Marines handle a rescue mission. Not you!"

George continued screaming. He was begging Jake to kill him, to make the pain stop, **_anything_**, just let it end, and then he felt himself being moved. They were trying to be gentle, but it didn't matter.

Pain covered him like a shroud, filling and overwhelming every nook and cranny of his soul.

* * *

"Janet, it's George. He doesn't look good," Jake blabbered. "I can't lose him, Janet. I can't." 

"I got the sarcophaguses up and running. Paul's in one and the other one has George's name on it," Janet said quickly. "Haven't you given him anything for the pain?"

"Ma'am, we've given him everything in the box," Siler explained. "It ain't touching the pain at all."

They were still moving him, and then he felt himself being lowered into something. His grasping fingers touched walls, and he prayed that they were putting him into a coffin and letting him die. There was a snap of a lid closing, and then a hum.

He was in the tank.

Oh God, he hated the tank, as he **_dreamed_** while he was being repaired. They were happy dreams at first, and then they turned darker...

_Kayla and Tessa running, and playing with a puppy by the name of Austin. _

_His daughters and their husbands, Marjorie and Alex, Lena and Michael, were sitting in his backyard, watching the girls. _

_Marie was wearing a borrowed white dress, as she walked down the aisle, her face hidden by a short veil. But she was amused with him; he could tell by the way she was trying not to grin. _

_Samantha back in SGC and her smile as he was promoting her to the rank of Major._

_Flying with Jacob and rolling the jet just because they were young and stupid and they thought that they'd live forever. _

**_NO. JACOB. NOT THE TANK. I CAN'T KEEP RELIVING MY PAST!_**

_Marie giving him a shaky smile, "I have cancer, George." _

_A brave, little girl. _"_Grandpa, I'm scared." _

_The Goa'uld Kinsey waving the bloody knife he had used on Marjorie. _

_Selmak looking intense, "I am the last of my kind, and I will not let Jacob's planet fall to the Goa'uld." _

_Jacob weeping, when he was told that his daughter was missing and presumed dead. _

"_George, they've infected all of the major Earth Governments. They're going to turn Earth into a Goa'uld Nursery." _

_Counting the bombs, and deciding to detonate them all as there was nothing left to live for. _

"_Collect your family and your friends. We've evacuating Earth."_

_Remembering Samantha, lying next to him in their bed, crying silently, because he had hurt her **accidentally** in what was supposed to be an act of love between two people. Wanting to weep also; but not having any tears left to cry, as his tears had long been burned out of him. Wanting so desperately to make everything right with Samantha once again, knowing that she was his last hope for sanity but that he was corrupting her, slowly and surely with his darkness and his madness.  
_

_The sinking feeling George felt when he realized anew that he possessed far too many unaccounted hours of his day, and he had no idea what he had done and who he had hurt during that inexplicable blank period of time. _

_Sensing the fear of people, who had once been proud to serve under him at the SGC, who now knew him as the butcher he truly was. _

_**LET ME DIE! LET ME DIE!**_

"Let me die. Let me die. Oh dear God, let me die. Why won't you let me die?" George continued to scream until thankfully, he blacked out from the pain.

* * *

Samantha was playing with her three month old daughters, when she heard a knock on the door. 

"Ok, Mommy needs to get the door," she explained to her daughters, who really didn't care at all.

Austin was by the door already, in 'guard' mode, awaiting further instructions from her. When George wasn't home, Austin took his job as guard dog very, very seriously.

"Who is it?" Samantha asked as she buzzed the intercom.

"It's Dad," her father said. "Please let me in, Sam."

Carefully, she motioned to Austin that the visitor was safe, and then the dog padded off behind her. She smiled when she realized that Austin was heading toward the girls. Samantha then opened the door and she smiled at her father.

"Dad, I wasn't expecting you home so soon," she said.

Her father walked into her living room, and then he faced her. He had a very odd look on his face, and he held out his hands toward her. Sam hugged him, and she was surprised by how tightly he held her.

"Sam, I need you to sit down," Jake requested. "Hell, I need to sit down as I'm exhausted."

She sat down on the couch and smiled at her father, "Dad, what's the problem?"

Jake sighed and rubbed his eyes, before speaking in a very shaky voice. "It's George. He got hurt during a fire fight. Real bad, Sam. Sometimes, I swear that he's got a goddamn death wish, Sammie."

He stopped and looked away from Samantha.

"What happened?" Sam questioned, surprised by the sudden flip-flop she felt in her belly.

The birth of their daughters had calmed George to some extent, and now her main complaint with him was that he doted on Abby and Hannah leaving **_her_** less time to dote on them.

"Paul Davis and his team got surrounded by enemy Jaffa. George couldn't leave them, as you know that he never leaves anyone behind. He took a handful of troops and he engaged the enemy Jaffa in a firefight. During the battle, he got hit repeatedly with staff weapon fire, while he was trying to protect Paul. It's pretty bad – it's the right eye, most of his chest and his right arm."

Jake gestured to each location as he gave Samantha the tally.

"The right eye? He'll be completely blind then?" Samantha asked.

"We put him in a tank, hopefully we can save the eye," Jake told his daughter. He reached for her hands and he squeezed them tightly. "I'm sorry, Sam. You know, Selmak and I, if we could, we'd switch places with him."

The girls began making little noises, and Sam sighed.

"They're hungry," she explained.

"I know what that sound means, Mal makes it all the time," her father smiled. "George will be in the tank until eight pm. So, Janet will be in contact in case… there's a change. I have to check on the rest of the troops."

"How did it go today?" Sam questioned, as she was making herself comfortable with the two girls.

"Good guys won," her father said quietly. "Thanks to George's unbeatable strategy. Love you."

Jake kissed her on the forehead, and then smiled at the two girls, "Love you two, too."

* * *

Samantha held her two girls in her arms, and sighed. Austin, recognizing her pensive mood, echoed her sigh. 

"You girls done yet?" She questioned. "Mooooo, moooooo, mooooo."

Her daughters continued suckling like mad, and she sighed again At least her emotional unease wasn't affecting the girls as they thought they were at a twenty four hour, seven day a week dairy bar.

"Austin, you know you're the only one I can talk to," Sam informed the dog. "You listen to me, you don't tell me what to do, and when I'm done talking to you, you give me a big lick of your scratchy tongue to make me feel better. If we could only fix your doggie breath, you'd be perfect!"

Austin just continuing watching her, and Sam sighed again.

"Austin, why do I feel so bad for George? It would so much easier for me if he died," she whispered. "I'm so afraid of him, and yet I find myself pitying him."

The dog got up and began nuzzling her face. He licked away her tears, and then some.

"Thanks," Sam whispered, "I needed that."

Her eyes fell on the two cards on the table.

Mother's Day Cards.

George had made two for her, and he had left them on the kitchen table before he had left for this last battle. One was from the girls. They had 'signed' it using their hand prints and their foot prints on the card.

The other card was from a goofy dog named Austin.

It was the random acts of kindness from George that always depressed her the most because they reminded her of the man he had once been.

* * *

Jacob Carter and Selmak were exhausted. They had visited the wounded, counted the dying, and memorized their names so they could be added to their roster of the dead. One day, the two of them knew that they'd have to pay their blood debt, but for now, New Earth was still safe and the tally of bad guys was down by one bad girl. 

They nodded an acknowledgement to his personal guards and they gratefully entered their quarters. Janet held a drink in her right hand, and she smiled.

"Doctor's orders," she ordered. "I'm warning you though; it'll put hair on your chest."

"You found more of Selmak's secret stash?" Jake questioned, before smiling gratefully at her. "Thank you. Salut."

He toasted her with the drink and drank it quickly. The stuff kicked like mule, tasted like paint varnish but it was the only thing that could relax him after a battle like today. Too bad it took more and more of it and there was less and less of it to be found.

"You're not getting any more," she warned him. "You need to eat…"

"First… how's George?" Jacob asked. "His eye?"

"Not good. It's pretty mangled," she explained. "We might be able to save it, but we'll have to tank him in short periods over a few days. I've got a lot of wounded personnel who need that tank."

"I know, but I need George," retorted System Lord Selmak.

"Selmak, don't get all high and mighty with me, I know you require George for your tactical sessions," Janet snapped. "Tell me something that I don't already know."

The two of them, both strong willed individuals, stared at each other, and Selmak decided to capitulate for the sake of family harmony.

"Naturally, Jake and I are concerned about George. Not just because of his gift with tactics but because we're worried about him. He and Samantha just had the twins, and he finally seems like the old George, before his grandchildren died," Selmak protested.

Janet nodded.

"You know…Jake wants you to have another baby before long," Selmak informed her. "I bet you didn't know **_that _**and that I think it's a grand idea. Jake is in a much better mood when you're pregnant. It makes him think about life rather than focusing on death and destruction."

Janet glared at Selmak.

"We've got enough baby symbiotes in the tanks for a while, so you can take some off from the symbiote production line. Your queen is **_quite_** prolific, I don't even think my mother spawned the numbers that you did," Selmak complimented her. "Talk to Jake about having another baby."

"Selmak," Janet protested.

"You're happier, Jake's happier. George is even happier. When all three of you are happier, it makes **_me_** happy." Selmak explained. "Besides Malcolm needs a little brother or sister. It's not good to be an only child."

"And I live to make Selmak happy," Janet retorted.

Selmak kissed her on the lips, and Janet melted into Jake's arms. Then Selmak relinquished control, allowing Jake to come to the fore, and he was kissing Janet.

"We've been together for almost eight years now, and I still can't comprehend why you two kiss so differently," Janet purred when she finally had to gasp for air.

Jake smiled at her, and then he laughed. Janet frowned at him, and he waved his hand, trying to signify that he needed a moment to explain.

"Selmak says it's due to her thousands of years of experience, while I'm just a fumbling teenager in the back of a Chevy," Jake explained.

"I like the way you fumble, and I like Selmak's experience, so I don't want you two sulking," Janet purred, as she kissed Jacob again.

* * *

Samantha sat on the couch, waiting for the knock on the door that would let her know that George had arrived home. The medical staff had contacted her, advised her that George would need additional treatments in the tank, but that it appeared hopeful that he'd regain the sight in his right eye. 

The dreaded knock on the door came, and after proper verification, she opened it. Paul Davis had his hand on George's right arm and there was a chirpy medical attendant on the other.

To her surprise, two of Paul's team was behind them. They were heavily armed and they nodded an acknowledgement toward her.

Fortunately Paul had warned her about George's appearance, else she would have been horrified.

His face was red and raw, what she could see of it, as both eyes were covered in gauze dressings and topped with a bandage.

"George?" She questioned softly which earned a nod of his head. "Come on it, please. Let's get him to bed."

"I'll set up his medications on the table," the attendant said. "You and Colonel Davis can get him to bed."

Paul nodded his head, and Samantha was unnerved when she realized that the two silent men were there to monitor the medical attendant.

"I'll be back tomorrow to escort him back for his appointment," Paul informed her. "I know you're busy with your daughters, and it's the least I can do."

She was holding George's left hand, and she was surprised by the bone-crushing grasp he had on her hand, as Paul and she attempted to finagle him down the hallway.

"Few more steps, Sir," Paul said in a very encouraging voice. "Then you can sleep. Keep going straight."

George barked a bitter laugh, and Paul laughed also. "Yes, Sir, it's easy for me to say that I know where I'm going. Just keep walking, Sir."

* * *

George couldn't see and he was drugged up to his injured eyeballs with every pain pill known to mankind. And now they wanted to him to walk, off the plank no doubt. His equilibrium was shot, yet Paul Davis had supported and guided him the entire way from the infirmary. Paul was on his right, Samantha on his left, he decided, as if he turned his head slightly in Samantha's direction, he could smell the perfume that 'Austin' had gotten her for Mother's Day. 

It was a faint floral scent that had made him think of Samantha when he had first smelt it. Not too overpowering, but yet still noticeable. Sam must have really liked the perfume as she was wearing it, he thought. It was the first happy thought he had since he had awoken in the tank and realized that he was completely blind.

"Ok – let's turn him," Samantha instructed. "Few more meters, George, and you can lie down."

He nodded once, and he heard the galloping sound of a herd of horses, which meant Austin was running down the hallway to investigate everything.

"Austin…" Samantha called. "No… no… **_sit_**."

The dog bumped against him, and George pulled his hand away from Paul. He began stretching his hand out blindly for the dog's head, and the dog soon was nudging it. George then pulled his other hand from Samantha's grip and he petted Austin while the dog went into a paroxysm of delight.

"My seeing eye dog," he explained. "Austin."

He spoke to the dog in Goa'uld softly. Austin was trained to obey certain more dangerous commands in Goa'uld because that way the dog was controllable only by him or Jacob-Selmak.

_**Guard me. Guard the family.**_

Austin was a good dog, and watchful of the girls, but George also knew that if he requested Austin to rip out someone's throat, the dog would do it. Austin settled down immediately, and then George stood up straighter, putting his hands out to his side.

"Told him not to get in front of me," he lied.

He didn't want to remind Samantha that with him blind the assassination attempts on him would be coming fast and furious. Jake had ordered extra guards placed and Paul Davis had even volunteered his team as his personal escort to and from the infirmary.

Davis was a good kid. Honored his debts and remembered those that had helped him.

But George still didn't trust him.

He trusted Jacob, Selmak, Janet and Austin. While George wanted to trust his wife, he knew perfectly damn well with him blind, she'd be trying to find a way home, so he had requested that Paul keep an extra close eye on her, himself. Just because he wasn't able to keep an eye on her, he claimed.

He wasn't letting her leave and take the kids.

No how, no way.

George had gotten the birth control implant this time, and it had been in his right shoulder until earlier today when he had been blasted with a staff weapon. He hadn't gotten it re-implanted after they had removed the charred remains.

If Samantha was pregnant again, she wouldn't leave. But right now, they weren't even sharing a bed, as he slept on the couch. George was loath to disturb her much needed sleep because of his snoring, so he slept in another room. Though George always got up when he heard the girls in the middle of the night. He shared that duty with her, because he was their father….

For a moment, he wondered… and then he felt himself shudder at the thought.

What a cold-hearted bastard he was if he was thinking of deliberating chaining Samantha to him for another nine months.

* * *

George was in their bed, and Austin was guarding him. Everyone had left, and Samantha checked on the girls. They were sleeping, and so she changed into her nightgown as she decided it was time for bed. Her husband was lying in bed, and she knew that he was awake, as his hands were slowly kneading the bedspread. For a moment, she stared at him and pondered the contradiction that was George Hammond. 

Paul Davis had always had a bit of hero worship for Hammond back in the days of the SGC, and if anything, this latest adventure had apparently boosted his esteem for Hammond to new levels. Paul's team had been pinned down, facing certain death when George had arrived like an avenging angel.

George adored their daughters, and he performed his fatherly duties for them without a protest. He got up in the middle of the night; he changed toxic diapers without a complaint and he easily performed the thousand other little things that separated the sperm donators from the exalted rank of Father. He never complained about his interrupted sleep, and in fact, George always worried about how much sleep she was obtaining.

The first few days after the girls' birth had found her woefully unprepared and uncertain about babies and twins in particular, but George had taken charge, assuring her of what was normal with newborns and what wasn't. She had babysat when she was a teen, and occasionally since then, but nothing had prepared for her having two wiggling little babies in her arms while she was trying to nurse.

Samantha sighed mentally as she continued to watch his hands rub the blanket. It was a nervous gesture, she decided. He must be terrified, she thought, but intent on not letting anyone know his fear. For eight years, George had lived in a half dimmed world, governed by what he could see from his right eye.

His left eye had been lost protecting her father.

And now he was possibly losing his right eye – because of his successful attempt to save Paul Davis. What had her father said to her?

"_**It's George. He got hurt. Real bad, Sam. Sometimes, I swear that he's got a goddamn death wish, Sammie."**_

She was feeling **_something _**toward George. A rather shy, tender and truthfully, extremely scary emotion. There, she finally admitted it to herself, and it was time to act.

Carefully, she undressed herself, taking off her nightgown and she got into bed with George.

"George?" Samantha whispered as she moved closer to him. "I'm here."

"I can smell your perfume," he assured her.

Hesitantly, she kissed him on the mouth. He seemed… startled… by her kiss, and then she kissed him again.

"George… tonight, I want you to relax. I'll take care of everything," she assured him.

* * *

The tank sessions would continued for a week, an hour or so each time, and George was delighted that after the first session, as he could see flickers of movement. If they had more sarcophaguses, he probably could have had his eyesight back on the first night, but they only had four that were running hot and heavy with only an hour of downtime every twenty hours or so after their last battle. 

Victims were triaged, and the most severely wounded got priority, except if you were Selmak's First Prime, but even that went so far.

God, he hated being tanked, as his memory got more and more swiss-cheesed after each tanking session. Sometimes it was a matter of minutes, but sometimes he found himself in circumstances that he had no idea how he got there.

Like for example, now.

He was lying in what seemed to be a bed and Samantha was kissing him. Least he **_assumed_** that whoever it was who was kissing him was Samantha, as the female smelled of Samantha's new perfume. The female kissed him again, and then Samantha whispered in his ear, "George… tonight, I want you to relax. I'll take care of everything."

For a moment, he thought of something that he had at one time deemed as rather important, having to do with his arm, but he couldn't remember what it was. George then decided to put out of his mind things he couldn't remember, and instead he concentrated on the fact that he was an extremely lucky man right now.

* * *

After George's sixth session in the tank, on the way back home to his quarters, Paul Davis tried to kill him. 

**_Fool_**.

He probably thought that George would grow complacent about the pit bull that was meekly leading him from to and from his sessions. But George hadn't ever really trusted Paul, as he was just a little too eager, just a little too self-effacing even back in the SGC.

So when Paul had questioned him about his eye, George had lied, and told him that he'd have to come back for a few more sessions. He had taken to wearing mirrored wraparound sunglasses to protect his eye, but he could see… just **_fine_**. Plus no one knew exactly where he was looking, as he portrayed the poor blind fool so well. George even had a cane that he was using to complete the act, with a hidden blade coated in a symbiote killing poison.

Paul was close to snapping, George had warned Jake just the other day. It was a fact of life these days, sometimes, combat fatigue got to people, caused them to snap like red rubber bands stretched entirely too far. George could tell that Paul was getting paranoid, and dangerously ambitious.

And so, George killed Paul Davis before Paul could kill him.

"Paul," George said in a very soft voice. "I'm very disappointed with you."

Unlike the other failed assassins George had dealt with, Paul had class. He didn't blabber, he didn't whine, and most importantly he didn't piss his pants. Paul was kneeling before George, and even the staff weapons surrounding him didn't faze him.

The boy was scared, because he knew he was gonna die, but he was determined not to show his fright. You had to respect someone like that, George thought, and so he'd give Paul a quick death.

"You're **_crazy_**," Paul informed him. "You put rabid animals down before their sickness spreads, and you should be put down, George."

George knelt next to Paul, and he put his hands on Paul's neck.

"Don't worry, Paul, you won't feel a thing," George informed the man who had tried to kill him. "I liked you, in fact, I still do. But you were pretty damn stupid if you thought I ever trusted you. I'll also make sure your family gets your pension."

"Thank you, sir," Paul said.

"I'll tell your wife that you died a hero. You'll get a medal and a nice ceremony, that way your kids won't find out you were a traitor," George decided.

George could afford to be magnanimous, as he was the vanquisher.

"Thank you, sir," Paul repeated.

Then George snapped Paul's neck. Then George stood up, brushing his hands off on his jacket, and looked at the guards surrounding him.

"Take his body. Dispose of it. Inform his wife that he was on a mission for me, and that unfortunately he was caught by enemy Jaffa. Fill out the paperwork for the Bronze Star, let his family think he died a hero. Anyone that says otherwise will join Paul on his final mission," George ordered.

"Yes, Sir!"

Besides hiding his improving eye site from Paul, he was also hiding it from Samantha. He didn't trust her either, especially after he found her scribbled notes on time travel.

And so being patient, he waited to catch her in the act of betrayal.

And naturally, she was caught easily, like a moth to the flame.

Her betrayal wasn't surprising, it was just how _**much **_her betrayal hurt him that shocked him.

* * *

George was home already, Samantha noted, when she got home from work. He was sitting in the dark, and she loudly announced that she was home. He didn't seem to hear her, so she walked over to him. 

"George? I'm home, did you hear me?" She questioned.

He turned to face her and she realized that he wasn't wearing his sunglasses. No, he was staring at her.

"You're done with your treatments?" she asked. "You can see me? That's great, George."

"I can see a lot of things now," he said quietly. "Hope you don't mind, I asked Janet if she'd watch the girls for a bit longer. Come here."

George held out his hand and smiled at her. Sam was about to give him her hand when she felt a chill run up and down her spine. His blue eye wasn't sane, and his smile… was best described as demonic.

_**Oh God. It's not George… it's Satan. **_

"Let me go pick the girls up," Sam protested, as she moved backwards.

She didn't move fast enough, and George managed to grab her wrist.

"Dear," he said. "She agreed to watch them all night for us. I told her that we wanted a chance to chat. What should we talk about? Shall we chat about your latest attempt to go back in time, Samantha?"

* * *

Samantha was alone in their bed, at last. 

She was in the fetal position, biting her lip. No tears would she shed, for Samantha had fought and **_scored_** on him, but in the end, the monster had won and taken his reward.

"What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger," she reminded herself. "I will find a way home, and I will take my daughters with me before he harms them. I will prevent this future from occurring. I so swear."

Clutching her pillow hard, wishing there was a way to ease her aches and pains to a more tolerable level, Samantha began to cry.

"I have to protect the children from him."

* * *

George woke up on the couch, feeling sore. The sun was in his eyes, and he was really late. 

"I'm too damn old to be sleeping on the couch," he thought, as he stood up. "But Samantha needs her sleep and I snore to wake the dead." He stretched, felt a pop or two from his complaining old bones and he put on the sunglasses. "Today's one of the last sessions, I can't be late; they'll give my session away to someone else."

Strange. It was fifteen minutes before his session, and Paul wasn't at the door.

"Damn it, Paul, I thought I could rely on you," George growled, as he threw on his flack jacket.

He was feeling fuzzy about the date again, which was a bad sign. So when he got to the infirmary, he gave Janet his best smile. Sometimes, if the gods were smiling at him, he could get away with a smile and a non-committal response about what he had allegedly done during one of his blackouts.

"George? Samantha didn't pick up the girls yet," Janet informed him. "It must have been a very good night for you two."

"Sorry, is it a problem? I'll go get them now," George offered, not having the faintest idea what last night had entailed.

For a moment, he remembered Samantha whispering, "George… tonight, I want you to relax. I'll take care of everything." Samantha had then kissed him. Their lovemaking had been unhurried yet more intense, as he had relied on his sense of touch and his sense of hearing to pleasure her.

Had that been last night? He thought the girls had woken up in the middle of the night, and Sam had brought them to bed to nurse them.

Yes, he had felt the girls with his hand while they had nursed.

No, then that hadn't been last night, as Janet had watched the girls.

**_Shit! What happened?_**

"No, it's no problem, so does that mean you and Samantha are…" Janet teased.

"I hope so," he admitted. "Now, can you get me into the tank?"

"Sure," Janet answered. "Don't forget, today's your last session."

* * *

Selmak and Jacob were waiting for him when he was done with the tank. Selmak was shaking his host's head in annoyance. 

"George," Selmak hissed. "We've got to talk. My office."

"Sure," George agreed.

They walked quickly to Selmak's office, ignoring the salutes of various personnel. When they got into Selmak's private office, Selmak slammed the door shut and then pushed George against the wall.

"Paul Davis is **_dead_**, George?" Selmak questioned intently. "What did he do, George? Why'd you kill him?"

"What?" George retorted. "What the hell are you talking about? Paul's **_dead_**?"

"George, you don't have to pretend with me. He's dead, he's getting a Bronze Star and he's getting a full military burial with honors for service above and beyond. I've met with the grieving wife and kids already, and they told me that he left yesterday morning to run a mission for you, and he never came back. What happened, George?" Selmak demanded.

"I don't know what happened," George protested.

Shit? Did he kill Paul? Paul Davis? He didn't remember anything from yesterday. God damn it, damn it, damn it. The blackouts were getting **_worse_**, not **_better_**. He had just thought they were improving because he didn't remember them!

"Your guards told me that Paul tried to kill you," Selmak said quietly. "He was plotting against you?"

"He wanted my position," George lied, hoping that he sounded truthful, though he had no idea what had happened to Paul Davis, who had always seemed like a bright, earnest kid. "I'm old, Jake, but I refuse to get attacked by a bunch of dogs who'll rip my throat out."

"You should have told me, George, I would have handled it," Selmak assured him. "Now, take the rest of the day off. You'll need to prepare a deeply moving tribute for Paul's funeral tomorrow. So what's the matter with Samantha? She called out sick today from work. Is she sick?"

"A bug, I guess," George answered.

"Well go home; take care of her, George."

George quickly agreed and then he decided that he had to get home immediately as he had a horrible feeling that he had been a very, very bad boy.

**_Please, God, I know you don't ever listen to any prayers from me anymore, as you've long since scratched me off your Christmas card list, but please… I'm begging you; don't let me have hurt Samantha or the girls. _**

_**Please.**_

_**There's only so much a man can handle, because he goes completely mad.**_

_**

* * *

**_

It had taken some time due to her discomfort, but Samantha cleaned the bedroom from top to bottom. The blood and semen stained sheets were sent to the incinerator, as she never wanted to see them again. For good measure, she had thrown the mattress pad and the comforter in after them. Then she had scrubbed herself until she was bleeding, determined to get the taint of Satan off her body and soul, but the memories still came.

_His weight was on top of her, pinning her down. She couldn't breath…His hand, in her hair, pulling it hard... The sinking realization that he was no longer sane...  
_

Sam then had sat underneath the running shower and wept until she had no more tears left.

The bruises were turning that sickly shade of yellow, and the pain in her ribs wasn't as sharp as it had first been. Thank God, as she'd never be able to pick up the girls then. She had cracked a few ribs one time when she had taken a spill on her motorcycle, and the pain and location of this injury had pretty much matched that one. That injury had hurt like a son-of-a-gun and it had been weeks before she could be medically cleared by the docs.

She could hide her black eye behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and before she donned them, she inspected herself in the bathroom mirror. The worse of the bruises were hidden by clothing, and the others she had camouflaged with foundation. Her eyes were blood-shot though from all the tears she had shed.

Yes, wearing the sunglasses would hide her black eye, and she put the glasses into her pocket. She'd wear them whenever she left the apartment.

Oh God, she wanted to run for her life, taking her kids with her, but where could she run? George had already promised her that if she fled, he'd find her and he'd **_hurt _**her.

"Good girl, Matilda, you keep it up," she whispered to the queen symbiote in her gut. "The girls are going to be here soon, and I need to be able to pick them up."

Then she walked gingerly to her living room, and to her intense fear, George was in the nursery. He was balancing both girls carefully and he was talking to them.

"How are my beautiful girls today? Fortunately, I can reassure you that you both look like your mother, not me, as that would be too big a cross to bear for such lovely girls. I'm going to put you to bed, but I want you to be very quiet, as your mom's not feeling well."

He then put them into their beds, and then he turned around. George appeared startled by her appearance.

"Samantha? Are you ok?" George questioned.

"Fine…" she assured him.

"You don't look fine," George retorted.

He reached out for her, and she instinctively stepped back.

"What's that about?" George questioned.

"You expect me to welcome you with a hug after last night?" Samantha spat.

"Samantha? Is that a black eye?" he asked. "Who gave that to you?"

"You don't know?" Samantha retorted.

Damn it, after everything he had done to her, he was playing stupid. She'd have more respect for him if he didn't lie about it.

"No, I don't know…" George protested. "Who gave you that black eye?"

* * *

Jake found his wife in the infirmary, and he motioned her over. 

"Let's go into my office," she said.

"We need to talk," he stated.

They walked over to her office, and she jumped on the desk while Jake closed the door. She hitched up her skirt, and wiggled her lovely leg at him enticingly.

"Normally, I'd be delighted to oblige," Jake sighed. "I'm concerned."

"Concerned," Janet purred. "I'm **_concerned_** too, as my legs aren't interesting you."

She wiggled them again, and he laughed.

"I'm not pulling any punches, and I'm not in the mood to play. Janet, Paul Davis is dead," Jake informed her.

"Fuck me," Janet said in honest astonishment. "How?"

"I think George killed Paul during one of his blackouts," Jake said. "He claimed that he killed Paul because Paul wanted his job…"

"He saved Paul's life last week, along with most of his team," Janet protested. "Paul would have walked through fire for him. Are you sure? George was doing so well this past year. He was his old self again, and he seemed to have kicked those bouts of depression. Samantha and the girls…"

Jake looked startled, and whispered, "Oh my **_God_**, the girls. I've got to go. Grab a med kit."

"George wouldn't hurt the girls," Janet protested, but she was grabbing a med kit while she spoke.

"Damn it to hell, how long has George been hiding these blackouts?" Jake questioned.

* * *

Somebody had beaten the hell out of Samantha, and he was **_furious_**. Goddamn it, to top it off, she playing stupid. 

_My God, what happened during this last blackout? Where was I when this happened? I didn't do this, did I? There's got to be another logical reason. I didn't do this, did I?_

Samantha gave him a brittle smile, and George stared at her in confusion.

_What the Sam Hell happened yesterday? Paul's dead, Samantha's got a shiner? Did Paul do something to Samantha and I killed him for it?_

"Easy, girl," George protested, as he moved toward her, Samantha backed away from him again. "Don't be afraid. Tell me what happened, and we'll deal with it. Did someone hurt you?"

Samantha grimaced and then nodded her head.

"Yes," she admitted finally. "Someone did hurt me, and he hurt me pretty damn well. He used his fists on me, George, and beat me after I tried to fight him off. You don't remember?"

"I want to make sure I know all the facts," he hedged. "Did Paul do this?"

"Paul Davis? I guess in a way, he did," Samantha laughed bitterly.

_Paul Davis? The Paul I know would never do this. _

She was on edge, and he moved closer to her. Once Samantha realized that she was backed into a corner with no escape, she began shaking.

"Why?" George questioned softly. "How? Who did this to you?"

"Apparently, George, after you killed Paul, you decided to perform your husbandly duties with me," Samantha growled. "**_You_** did this to **_me_**."

His heart broke then and there, as he knew she could be right… He didn't remember anything... but...he would never do _**THAT **_to her.

"No… I didn't," George protested. "Don't you blame this on me, it's not my doing."

"You did!" She said in a very quiet voice. "You hit me while you screamed obscenities at me. You used your fists on me, George and you raped me repeatedly. And when you were done… "

Samantha shook her head and refused to continue.

"Tell me what I did to you when I was done," George requested. "I don't remember the past day or so, as I've had another blackout."

She shook her head again, and George put his hands on her shoulder.

"Don't hit me," she whispered.

"Just tell me… I'm begging you," he whispered intently.

"You told me… that if you had only realized how good I was in bed … back when you were my CO…you would have fucked me daily on the ramp of the Gateroom…. And …"

"I did **_more_**?" George asked shakily. "Tell me."

"You told me that you would have fucked me on the conference room table and made Colonel O'Neill watch."

* * *

The walls were crushing in on him, he was drowning. His heart was pounding and he was gasping, trying to catch his breath. 

There was no escape from his eternal damnation.

"Samantha… I never thought of you like that…" George whispered, trying to convince her of his sincerity. "I always had the greatest respect for you and your abilities as an officer under my command. I never…"

He was cracking up. The voices of his dead and those he had injured were screaming at him.

_His grandchildren bleeding while they screamed. _

_Paul Davis who calmly faced him while George snapped his neck._

_Bra'tac calmly telling him, "I die free!"_

_O'Neill and the rest of SG-1 who refused to submit to Selmak, steadfast in their desire to return home. They had left him with two choices. Either put them in stasis, or kill them, but before he had placed them in stasis, he had gotten his hands bloody beating O'Neill. O'Neill wouldn't shut up, he get mouthing off, so he just finally lost his temper, hitting the younger man over and over and over again until O'Neill had shut up.  
_

_He saw Marjorie and Lena once again, drenched in blood, reaching for him. _

Some many faces, all of them screaming at him. He couldn't think. He couldn't stop listening to them as he never could stop hearing them scream and scream and scream…

The worse was Marie, who stared at him in horror, and wondered about the monster that he had become.

"I never… thought of doing **_that _**to you… on the ramp… or anywhere else, Samantha. I don't remember doing that to you… I don't remember anything from the last few days…"

George staggered away from her, hearing Paul Davis' words in his mind over and over again.

"_You put rabid animals down before their sickness spreads, and you should be put down, George."_

It was long past time to pull the trigger.

* * *

Samantha watched George walk down the hallway. He entered his office and slammed the door shut. 

For a moment, she had felt pity for him, but she had steeled her heart.

And when she heard the gun shot.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 8

Author: Selmak

Explanation of the Story : I desired placing our stoic George into an unique situation, stretching him long past the limits of human endurance and breaking him. This story details George's passage of self-destruction and redemption. I really do like the character of George, I just don't think we've ever seen him with his face dirty and his hair messy and it would be interesting to having him deal with the ramifications. How will a fundamentally respectable and decent guy handle the news that in the future, he's not such a decent guy after all?

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction and in this chapter, Samantha must deal with the ramifications of what happened in the last chapter.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely. To read this fic, you need one bottle of bleach to scrub your mind out, as one of the pairings is a bit unusual.

Synopsis: George realizes exactly what he has done to Samantha, and he had taken a very drastic step.

* * *

Jake was opening the door to George and Samantha's suite when he heard the gunshot. The babies were screaming, and Samantha… she was giggling? He looked at her in concern, and he saw that his daughter had a fading black eye, and there were sickly greenish yellow bruises on her face.

"We're never going to get the blood out of the carpet," Samantha said in an odd tone of voice.

If Jake didn't know better, he'd swear that Samantha was completely stoned.

"I hope you didn't make a mess, George. I really hope you put a drop cloth down," she continued in a vacuous voice.

"Samantha?" Jake snapped. "What's going on? Who hit you?"

"My loving husband," Samantha giggled. "The one you forced me to marry."

"I'm going to kill him!" Jake roared.

He was about to storm over to George's office, when Janet blocked his way. She shook her head, and Jake stopped.

"Where's George?" Janet questioned. "Samantha? Where is he?"

"He's in his office. I think he just blew his head off," her daughter-in-law began laughing again, and then she began crying.

Janet snapped, "I'll look at George, you take a look at your daughter."

* * *

Janet went in, saw that George was in his chair, and he was slumped over his desk with blood pouring from his face. In one hand that rested on the desk, was a well-loved photo of his grandkids, and his other hand hung limply at his side. There was a gun on the floor, and Janet gingerly picked it up and dropped into a desk drawer.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she reached for his carotids, and felt a faint, thready pulse. He was barely breathing, and Janet sighed.

"Damn it, George. Damn it, damn it, damn it. What was that saying you were always telling me? Death is lighter than a feather while duty is heavier than a mountain. You were always the strongest person I knew, when did the weight get so heavy that this was your only option?" she whispered.

She grabbed her communication device.

"Medical team to the First Prime's Suite," she ordered roughly, trying not to cry. There would be time for that later. "I'll require the sarcophagus, and two security teams."

Then she slipped on the healing device, and she activated it. She was concentrating so intently on healing George, or more truthfully, keeping him alive until the reinforcements arrived, that she didn't hear Jake enter the room.

"Oh my God," Jake whispered. "He tried to kill himself? **_Again_**?"

"One shot in the mouth," Janet confirmed. "He's still alive which is quite surprising. The bullet appears to have hit bone, so it ricocheted. How's Sam?"

"Cracking up," reported Jake. "The kids are screaming and she's just laughing and crying. When you're done with George…" Jake paused.

"I'll look at Sam, don't you worry. Why don't you take her and the kids, and bring her to our place?" Janet questioned.

"She needs medical care, Janet," Jake protested angrily. "I think George beat her up… and he might have done **_more_**, Janet… She needs you, Janet."

"Well George will die, if I leave him to attend Samantha," Janet retorted.

"Oh, Christ," Jake swore. "We've been so busy with Malcolm that we didn't keep an eye on him. He looked happier, damn it. He was acting like the old George."

* * *

Samantha waved goodbye to George as he was wheeled out by a medical team that consisted of Dr. Brightman and four Super Soldiers.

"Bye, bye George," she called out inanely, as the stretcher left her sight. "I hope you feel better."

She giggled, and then looked at her father.

"Well. Not really, but I had to say that in front of the medics. By the way, Dad, we're going to need a new rug in that room," she said in a very childish tone. "Probably needs a new painting job. Actually, you know what… why you just give me a new apartment like you did the last time something like this happened…"

"Samantha, I think you need to come with me," her father informed her. "We're going to take the girls and you're coming to my place."

"Shouldn't I go down to the infirmary, and sit by his sarcophagus. You know, Dad, pretend that I actually care whether or not that… **_monster_**… dies?" Samantha spat.

"Samantha, if you were having problems with George, you should have told me. I would have tried to prevent this," Jake assured her.

He put one hand on her shoulder and he gave her a comforting squeeze.

"Don't pet me, I'm not your dog," Samantha protested. "You can't pat me on the shoulder and pretend this didn't happen, DAD."

"Let's go to my place, and we'll take care of everything there. We need to get you of here, Samantha," Jake said, before repeating, "That's what we need to do, is get you out of here, Samantha."

"Why should I trust you? You're as crazy as George is," Sam snickered. "He hit me, Dad. He forced himself on me, and he said things about me…and he called me these horrible, horrible names…and you think he's the perfect husband for me. I just want to know one thing..."

Sam wept for a brief moment, and then she smiled at her dad.

"What the hell did you and Selmak do to General Hammond to turn him into that **_thing_**…."

Her dad was angry, angrier than she had ever seen him before.

"You think I did something to **_GEORGE_**?" Her father spat. **_"HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT TO ME! YOU HAVE NO IDEA OF THE HELL HE AND I WENT THROUGH!"_**

Then Selmak came to the fore, and smiled.

"Samantha, I'm going to offer a little bit of advice on men that I hope you will heed. Perhaps George won't get so upset next time if you didn't call out O'Neal's name at the wrong time," Selmak slyly suggested.

Samantha tried to hit Selmak, but Selmak grabbed her arm and twisted.

"I don't approve of what George did to you, but I can't help thinking that you helped bring it down on yourself, Samantha." Selmak retorted. "Can you honestly say that you've been supportive of George, or have you been chipping away at his emotional equilibrium? He's spoken to me, Samantha, about his fear that you're going to take the girls from him. Did you push George too far? Did you threaten to take his kids from him? Did you?"

She struggled again, wanting to hit Selmak **_hard_**, but Selmak was too strong.

"Listen to me, Samantha, I am horrified by what George has done," Selmak stated. "But if you're insisting on blaming **_US,_** then you take a long look at **_yourself!"_**

**_

* * *

_**

Fortunately, Janet stepped between the two of them. She had stayed behind when Dr. Brightman had taken George to the infirmary.

"Selmak, you know you're upset about what happened, as are Samantha and Jacob. We need to take a step back and not say anything that will tear our family apart," Janet suggested. "Selmak, Samantha, Jacob? I need to get Samantha to the infirmary, and someone needs to take the girls to our place."

"I don't want to go the infirmary," Samantha said tiredly. "I want to go to home. I just want to go home… I can't find my ruby slippers, and I can't get home."

"I'll handle this," Janet said to Jake and Selmak. "You take the girls to our place."

* * *

Jacob grabbed both of his favorite girls, Abby and Hannah, and had his personal guards grab a few other odds and ends. Another time he would have laughed, to see Selmak's Super Symbiote Soldiers holding baby clothes and assorted baby gear, but he was blaming himself for the situation between George and Samantha.

**_I trusted him, Selmak. I thought he'd protect my little girl. I thought he'd be good for her, far better than O'Neill. Foolishly, I had hoped that she would ease his soul and become the confidant and sounding board that Janet has been to us. _**

_Easy, Jake, we'll find out what happened and then we'll fix everything. _

_**So help me, Selmak, if he did anything to my daughter, I'll fucking kill him. I'll fucking kill him.**_

_Shhh… you need to be calm, Jacob. You need to be calm for Samantha right now. _

"Let's go," he ordered brusquely. "Austin, come along, boy."

The only good thing about Selmak's Super Symbiote Soldiers was that they wouldn't tell anybody what they saw.

* * *

"Samantha, please sit down," Janet requested. "I want to talk to you. I also want to take you the infirmary and do a rape kit on you."

"I scrubbed myself until I was bleeding, so I don't think you'll get anything," Samantha informed her. "I still feel contaminated. He called me… a **_whore_**, Janet. He told me that I was a pretty good whore, and if he had only known how good I was when he was my CO, he would have taken me on the ramp every damn day."

Inwardly, Janet sighed when she saw how Samantha shook, while outwardly she tried to appear compassionate. Her friend was staring at the floor, and she was wearing a very baggy sweat shirt, trying to camouflage and conceal her figure. She had both her arms wrapped around herself, as though to prevent herself from shattering into a million pieces.

"Samantha…" Janet whispered, trying to express her love and compassion for her friend somehow but knowing that she failed.

"I don't want to go the infirmary, everyone will know then… They talk about me all the time and I can't stand it…" Samantha stated shakily, while she wiped her eyes. "When I was out sick due to the twins, they thought he put me into a hospital bed…"

"Ok, how about I take you home with me. I'll examine you, give you something to sleep, and when you wake up, we'll talk some more," Janet suggested.

Samantha nodded her head once in tired acceptance.

* * *

Janet Frasier made sure that no one saw her as she shepherded Samantha to her place. When they finally got there, Jacob was juggling Hannah who he was feeding from a bottle.

"That's my girl, have your bottle," Jacob crooned. "You're so hungry for such a little girl."

Samantha cursed herself, as she hadn't nursed her babies. Her breasts were sore and engorged and no doubt the girls were hungry. Even though her life was skidding out of control like a roller coaster gone off the tracks, she should still had made sure her daughters were safe and fed. After all, when her mother had died, Dad had managed to keep food on the table.

"I have to nurse Abby," Samantha protested to Janet. "I didn't nurse the girls recently."

"How about you nurse Abby after I'm done examining you, as she's not complaining that she's hungry? Or do you want to pump now?" Janet questioned. "Let me give you a once over, and go from there."

Samantha nodded in agreement, and then she followed Janet to an unused bedroom.

* * *

Janet carefully examined her friend, and she grew angrier and angrier. There was no doubt in her mind that George had beaten the hell out of Samantha and forced himself on her, as even with the symbiote-enhanced healing Samantha still had noticeable bruises on her arms and legs, combined with a fractured rib.

But there was another problem.

Samantha was pregnant.

Not from the attack, but maybe a week or so along. That timeframe had been when George had been blinded during his rescue of Paul Davis.

"Samantha, I need to tell you something," Janet said in a neutral tone.

"Am I pregnant?" Samantha asked in a shaky voice. "It's the only way this nightmare could possibly get worse…"

"Yes, you are," Then Janet spoke loudly to be overheard. "Not from last night, Samantha, but you're maybe ten days or so along? Did George attack you then? He was **_blind_**, Samantha. Did he attack you then also?"

"No," Samantha laughed shakily. "I seduced him. Oh my God, he's trapped me pretty damn well."

"What?" Janet questioned. "He trapped you?"

"I promised him that I wouldn't try to get home if I was pregnant. And I'm pregnant again," Samantha's laughter turned into sobs. "Oh God, I'm pregnant…"

Janet held Samantha for a bit, rocking her gently, even she shot Samantha full of sedatives.

"No… I can't sleep, I have such nightmares," Samantha protested.

"No… you won't have any," Janet promised.

* * *

Samantha Carter staggered down the ramp, and at the bottom was General George Hammond. He was dressed in his dress blues, and for once, he was wearing his jacket and a tie. Behind her the wormhole closed with a soft kawoosh and the iris closed.

"Welcome back, Major," Hammond said softly. "It's good to see you back. The rest of SG-1 made it back hours ago, so I'll want to debrief you about how you got separated from them."

"Yes, Sir," Samantha answered. "It's quite good to back."

"Very well then, since you were late, and we missed our regularly scheduled meeting, assume the position, Major," Hammond ordered, as he undid his tie with a fluid, practiced motion.

"Sir?" Samantha asked while her heart began racing.

"Major. Your position. On your back, on the ramp. _Now,_" Hammond growled.

He unbuttoned his jacket, and he removed his belt next. Deliberately, he waved his belt at her in a very threatening manner.

"No," Samantha protested. "This is a dream. General Hammond wouldn't do this to me."

"Major," the General growled. "On your back."

* * *

Satan was brutal and rough, intent on enjoying himself while Samantha stared at the non-descript ceiling of the Gate Room. She didn't feel the coils of the ramp cutting into her back; instead, she stared at the ceiling and wished that it would finally end. When he was done, he rolled off her, and he quickly got dressed. Then the devil cut the restraints off her arms and legs knowing that he was safe, as he had long since destroyed any of her resistance and self-esteem.

"Plastic ties, they're so damn useful. See you in my office in fifteen, Major," Satan ordered. "We'll continue your debriefing there. Your team will enjoy your report."

Samantha rolled up into a little ball of misery, uncaring of her torn clothes and she wept for what seemed like hours. Then she felt someone touch her, and she put all her effort into one mighty blow.

To her delight, she cold cocked Hammond onto the floor of the Gate room. Then she straddled him and continued hitting him over and over again, until he managed to grab her hands. Then she realized to her horror that she had been hitting the **_real_** General Hammond, not the other one.

Blood was pouring down his face, gushing from his ears, mouth and nose, mimicking how George had looked when they had loaded him on the stretcher. Yet George was attempting to speak to her.

"I don't know what you're saying," she screamed. "I don't know. I don't understand! I don't understand you!"

* * *

Samantha woke up then, and she willed her heart to slow down, before it popped out of her chest and ran the NYC Marathon. Then gingerly she got out of the bed, and she went to see her girls. They were awake, and she picked them up carefully.

"You must be hungry," she whispered. "Let's take care of that now. Mommy loves you, and she won't let anything happen to you."

She had to protect them, and that meant she'd have to bring them back home.

* * *

After putting Samantha to bed, Janet grabbed a hug from Selmak and Jake.

"Just hold me," she desperately pleaded. "I'll tell you what happened in a bit, and I need to see how George is doing, but for now, I need a hug."

"How's Samantha?" Jake questioned while Janet clung to him. He rubbed her back reassuringly as she was shaking.

"George beat her up pretty well," Janet admitted. "I don't know what the hell happened to cause George to snap like that, but there was a lot of rage involved."

"I'll kill him," Jake vowed softly. "I'll fucking kill him for hurting Sammy!"

"Jake, I don't even know if we can save George. He might have actually succeeded with his suicide attempt this time," Janet whispered.

"Damn it, Janet, he was **_happy_**. When the girls were born, he was the happiest that I've seen him since before his wife died. He was laughing, he was the old George. And now, this…what happened?"

Janet held onto Jake tightly and then she kissed him.

"Thanks for recharging the battery, I have to go," Janet smiled sadly as they broke apart. "If he's… status asparagus, I'll let him go."

Jake nodded his head and smiled bitterly.

"Maybe you better let him go anyway," Jake admitted in a very quiet voice. "Selmak and I will kill George for this."

"Jake, Sam's pregnant," Janet blurted quickly.

"From this?" Selmak growled, Jacob's eyes flashing even as she slipped on her ribbon device. "Then he **_dies_**."

"No, we're both about a week or so along," Janet dropped that bomb quickly before Selmak quickly embraced her.

Selmak kissed Janet passionately, and then Jacob came to the front.

"You little minx, you told that me now so I wouldn't kill George," Jake growled. "Selmak is now saying that we should wait until he wakes up. She was perfectly willing to castrate him with hot iron when she first found out."

"If he wakes up," Janet stated.

Jake nodded his head in tired agreement, and then Selmak spoke up.

"Janet, please find out why Jake's best friend would do this to his daughter," Selmak requested. "There must be a reason."

* * *

When George woke up, he was cold, lying in what seemed to be a dimly lit coffin. For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he took a long, deep breath. Then he took another.

_**Easy, George. Easy.**_

One trembling hand felt the wall of his container, and then he felt his leg.

**_Bare skin? They buried me without any pants on? _**

There was a distinctive breeze, and he realized that he felt it everywhere… as in **_everywhere_**…

_**Shit! They didn't leave me with any underwear?**_

The lid was close to his nose, maybe a foot or so away. He put the palm of his hand against it. Whatever it was, it vibrated slightly.

_**Mechanical?**_

His face and jaw hurt pretty badly, but it wasn't the worse pain he ever had. When he was a kid, he had gotten thrown from a horse, and now **_that_**… had **_hurt_**.

**_Where the hell am I? Is this some sort of USAF experiment with sensory deprivation? I'm a flyboy, not a frog. I want blue skies, not a tin can under the ocean._**

He heard a click, and then the lid separated. A pretty woman, though older than he was, gave him a sad smile. She was wearing a lab coat; she must be from the medical corps. For some reason he could only see her with his right eye. George sat up, and then he gave a quick yelp when he realized anew that he wasn't wearing **_any_** clothes. He immediately retreated back into the safety and security of the coffin, knowing full well that his face was as flaming red as his hair.

"Ma'am? Could you please give me something to wear?" George questioned plaintively.

His eyesight was still blurry, but he realized something was mighty odd. He was trying to cover 'the boys' with his hands, as someone in the medical corps had thought it funny to wake him up stark naked, but his hands? They were old looking? His chest hair was grey? While he had always been solidly built, he looked like he had gotten more solid around the middle. And why was there an X shaped surgical scar?

Panic began overwhelming him, so he tried to ignore the physical evidence for a bit. George was mighty glad when the lady threw a blanket at him as it gave him a little dignity. He wrapped it around himself, and he sat up again. Deliberately, he refrained from looking at his gut and the x-shaped incision.

"Thank you, Ma'am," George said gratefully. "Do you know what happened to my clothes? Is there a problem with my eye? I can't seem to see anything out of one of them."

"George? You know my name, why are you calling me, Ma'am?" the lady asked.

She appeared concerned, and George was getting annoyed. This joke was going a bit too far.

"Ma'am, I don't know who you are, but I do appreciate the blanket," George said politely, trying not to let the pranksters know that they had rattled him.

They had put a lot of effort into the joke, and it would be more annoying to them if he remained blasé about everything. Therefore, he would remain seemingly nonchalant even though he was getting more and more rattled by the joke. They had never taken a joke**_ THIS_** far before.

"George? Are you serious?" the lady asked.

"Ma'am, I can assure you that I have never seen you before in my life. Now, I think this joke is getting rather old, so I would appreciate it if you told Airman Adams that he can fess up that this is his joke before I have a conniption, Ma'am."

"You don't know me, George?" she asked again.

"Ma'am, I have never had the privilege of an introduction to you. I would remember a looker like you, Ma'am. Begging your pardon, Ma'am, but it is the truth," he answered. "May I ask your name, please?"

"George, I'm Janet. We've worked together for years in the USAF," the woman… Janet… paused. "Dr. Janet Fraiser? I'm married to Jacob Carter and Selmak?"

One of the names sounded vaguely familiar to George, but he couldn't quite place the name. Jacob Carter? Was he someone that he served with in the Air Force? But who was Selmak?

"Ma'am," George protested, wondering how the hell he couldn't remember a bigamist in the USAF. "I don't remember you."

"George, why don't you tell me exactly what you remember? How about name, rank, serial number, where you are stationed, stuff like that?" she asked.

Her smile was fading, and he looked at her.

"Ma'am, I am Lt. George Hammond of the United States Air Force. My Serial number," George paused and then rattled of a series of number easily. "I am currently stationed at Cheyenne Mountain."

The female doctor was still smiling, but George noticed that she was looking strained.

"Ma'am? May I have a mirror please?" George requested. "Ma'am, I'm only twenty eight years old, why is my…" He paused, flushed scarlet and then continued, "Chest hair white? Airman Adams didn't _bleach_ me, did he? I understand he's a practical joker and all, but this joke is going a little too far. I'm getting mad enough to beat him like a rented mule."

He looked at his hands again, realized that he was wearing a wedding ring, but it wasn't his wedding ring.

"What happened to my ring? My wife's gonna be aggravated enough with this little stunt, but to take a man's wedding ring is downright **_cruel_**. I promised my wife that I'd never take it off," George stated. "Where's my ring? Where's my **_real_** wedding ring? Where's my clothes? What the hell is going on? Doctor, I want that sorry excuse of an Airman, David Adams, brought in here **_immediately_**."

"George, you were hurt," the doctor said.

"How?" George questioned.

"A gun shot wound to your head," Janet explained slowly. "I want you to get dressed, and we're going to run some tests. I'm a little concerned that you don't remember me, George."

"Is that gun shot wound why I can't see out of my left eye?" George questioned. Instinctively he touched the left side of his face, and when his fingers felt rough and coarse scar tissue instead of smooth skin, he swallowed. "I can't fly with only one eye."

"Let me get you some clothes, George, and once you're dressed, I'm going to take you to another room for some tests," Janet stated in a very calm voice.

"Where's Marie?" George questioned. "I want to see my wife, please. Is she here? She's pregnant with our second child; she must be all worked up with worry. I don't understand anything that's happened to me. I don't understand anything about this gunshot wound you're yammering about, and I don't understand why Airman Adams and his little gang aren't men enough come in here and explain the joke besides the fact it just ain't funny."

"George, what year do you think it is?" Janet questioned. "Where do you think you are?"

"1969," he stated easily. "I am currently stationed in Cheyenne Mountain, so I believe that I am somewhere in the mountain right now."

"Oh dear god, we don't have a psychiatrist on staff," the woman whispered.

"Tell me the truth, Doctor, I can handle it," George promised. "I don't need a shrink. What's the problem, Ma'am?"

The short woman paused, and then looked him directly in his eye.

"It's not 1969. It's almost forty-five years later, George. It's **_2012_**," Janet informed him. "George, I hate to tell you this, but Marie died from cancer almost twenty years ago."

**_Marie was dead? What the hell? He had lost forty five years of his life? _**

"**_MARIE!"_** George screamed. "**_MARIE_**! **_NOOOO! MARIEEEE! MARRRIIIEEE! NOOOOOO! ADAMS - YOU ARE A FUCKING DEAD MAN!"_**

**_

* * *

_**

Five sedatives later, George Hammond was out cold, and four staff members had been injured while putting him in restraints. Fortunately, the injured were only super soldiers that provided security for the infirmary, and they were easily replaced. Now she had to go through George's exams and see if she could make heads or tails of the results.

Janet sighed and stretched her achy back before she went into reexamine her patient. She didn't like having to restrain him to the bed, and to her sad surprise, George was awake. He was in tears, and he was biting his lip.

"Ma'am?" he questioned.

"Yes, George, I'm here," Janet assured him.

"Have you seen my puppy? I've lost him," George asked. His Texas drawl was molasses thick, thicker even than the lieutenant's drawl had been.

If Austin was a puppy, she was Queen Elizabeth, Janet thought. Complete with jeweled scepter and tiara.

"Austin? He's with Samantha," Janet told him.

"No… Milo," George protested. "Big, black mutt? Mamma's gonna yell at me because I took him off his leash. I gotta find him."

_**Oh Christ, George, what was going on?**_

"George, how old are you?" Janet asked.

"Six," he answered.

Janet talked to young George until he was asleep, and then she decided she wanted to go home.

Not just back to her suite with Jake and Malcolm, she wanted to be home again, before everything had gone to hell.

She carefully instructed Dr. Brightman to keep an eye on George, with the stern warning if anybody found out that it was George who was restrained inside the quiet room, there would be hell to pay as Jacob and Selmak would be furious. Brightman naturally agreed, as being married to Siler, Brightman knew how very advantageous it was if you could keep Selmak and Jake happy.

Siler and Brightman had been one of Selmak's arranged marriages, Janet thought unexpectedly. And it had apparently worked, as had Walt Davis' arranged marriage to one of Ishta's Jaffa warrior princess, though Davis had appeared stunned for the first year or so of his marriage. Janet always called her Xena, even though the girl's name was Xera or something like that. At least Xena made sure that Davis' cardigan sweater was never ever seen again. Even Paul Davis, the notorious playboy that he was, had been… had settled down after Selmak had married him off to a Jaffa priestess.

"Keep him sedated until I get back in. I have three super Soldiers guarding him. Call me if you need me, I need to go home," Janet sighed.

"What happened?" Brightman questioned.

"Assassination attempt," Janet lied. "Got into his quarters somehow, so there will be hell to pay when Selmak finds out where the security failed. It's left him a little disorientated, so I want him in the quiet room so he's not bothered."

The weight of the universe was pressing down on her, and she was grateful when she got to her quarters. She thanked the guards brusquely, not that they cared, and then she entered the sanctuary of her safe place.

Jacob was waiting up for her, and he saw the look in her eyes.

"He's really sick, Jake," Janet admitted.

"Eating a bullet isn't very healthy," Jake retorted, obviously exasperated.

"No, he's alive, Jake, but he's **_ill_**." Janet explained. "He was talking to me…"

"Really?" Her husband said in an emotionless voice. "Did he say why he did it?"

"He thought he was twenty eight years old, and he was a lieutenant stationed at Cheyenne. George was requesting to see Marie… and he was quite devastated when he found out that she died almost twenty years ago," Janet said, trying not to remember George's wail of heartbreaking grief when he was told that Marie was dead.

"George took down four super soldiers while we were trying to restrain him. Then after I gave him almost enough sedatives to knock **_SELMAK_** out, he asked me about Milo."

"Milo? Who's Milo?" Jake questioned.

"Milo's a mutt George had when he was six," Samantha inserted into the conversation. She was standing in the hallway, and she rubbed her eyes.

"Did George think he was six years old?" Jake questioned. "Is he… **_Compos mentis_**?"

"No," Janet admitted. "It's like his memories are all mixed up."

"Or else he's got a couple more personalities running around in his head," Samantha stated.

"What do you mean by that?" Janet questioned.

"Haven't you noticed? There's General Hammond, the General, George and Satan running around in his head, and now you're telling me there's Lt. George and Georgie," Samantha spat. "He's **_crazy_**."

"George's got the Sarcophagus Schizophrenia?" Jake asked Janet. "It could explain why he did what he did to Samantha, but in every case so far, if someone's got the Sarc Schizs, they can't function. They sit in a chair and mumble. They can't eat, they can't drink, they just stare at the wall and drool. He's walking and he's talking, it can't be the Sarc Schizs? Can it?"

Janet sat down on the couch, and she rubbed her temples, "It's not schizophrenia, Jake. What appears to have happened to George is almost like Dissociate Identity Disorder, in which the individual is repeatedly severely emotional traumatized …"

"Cut the fancy medical lingo shit, Doc! Give it to me straight!" Jake snapped. "Can you prove or disprove that he's got it? That's all I want, Janet."

"I ran some tests today, and I'll look them over. Have you ever noticed that he talks Texan more some days than others?" Janet asked. "He was very Texan when I spoke to him today."

"George has blackouts where he doesn't remember what's happened to him," Samantha inserted. "Plus, I've noticed that his voice changes depending on who's running the show."

"Why didn't you mention it, Sam?" Jake questioned.

"I didn't think anyone would believe me," she snapped. "Nor would anyway care as long as George was functioning enough to spit out tactics for Selmak's little war.."

"Sam, I'm your father, I would care," Jake protested sincerely.

"Would you? Or are you crazy like George?" Samantha questioned. "I can't trust any of you, and I certainly don't trust that snake in your head, **_DAD_**."

Jake was about to open his mouth, when Janet stepped between the two Carters.

"Please, please, it's late. Samantha needs to sleep, and Jacob, you've got Paul's service tomorrow which is in…" Janet looked at the clock and sighed, "Less than ten hours from now. Please, please, please. I'm so tired right now."

Janet then broke down in tears, "I can't deal with this right now. I'm **_so_** tired."

Jake touched his wife on her shoulder and then engulfed her in a tight embrace, "Don't cry, Janet. You and the baby need you to sleep. Go to bed, we are all tired, and we're not thinking straight. Please, Janet, don't cry."

Samantha looked at her father hugging Janet, and gave her step mom a brittle smile. "Pregnant?"

Janet nodded once.

"Great, we can whelp our little monsters together," Samantha spat before she started crying.

* * *

Samantha was crying uncontrollably, and she felt her father hug her. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to cry on his shoulder, and listens to his lies about how everything would work out.

"Don't, don't, don't," she wept as she tried hitting him with her fists.

She hit him several times, and he didn't do anything. No protests, no grunts of pain, just her father holding her ever tighter.

"I am so sorry, Samantha," her father repeated, over and over again.

And she continued to weep.

* * *

Janet put Samantha to bed, and then Janet put something onto the bedside table. It was a small red pill in a glass.

"If you take it, you'll miscarry," Janet explained softly. "You need to use it soon, and you'll just have a heavier menstrual cycle than your norm. It'll be your secret, Samantha. No one will know, not even me, because after what George did to you, you could easily have a miscarriage."

Janet then hugged Samantha tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Samantha, believe me, if Jake, Selmak or I had even guessed that George was capable of attacking you, we would have stopped it, I swear," Janet promised.

"Do you think he's mentally ill?" Samantha questioned. "Not that it makes much of a difference."

"Yes, I believe he is. He's just been hiding it awfully well from me and your father. I think part of the problem with your father is that Jake refuses to even consider George as unstable, because if George is unstable, Jake would have to look a lot closer at some of the things he's done in the past."

Samantha nodded once, and then she pushed Janet away strongly, but gently.

"Get some sleep, Janet. You and your baby need it," Samantha reminded her. "How far along are you?"

"About ten days or so, as I implanted the embryo a week ago. All my tests so far seem to prove that my levels are increasing like they're supposed to do, so I think Houston, we have a go," Janet teased.

"You're happy?" Samantha questioned.

"Yes, I always wanted children, but I never thought that I'd be a mom, and then I was given Cassandra. Then she died, along with 95 percent of Earth's population thanks to Kinsey. Selmak wanted me to be Jake's queen, because Selmak wanted someone Jake could trust as his partner, so I agreed. After I decided that I could be Jake's queen, Selmak told me that there was a way Selmak could ensure that I could have my own children of my own flesh and my own blood, and I agreed wholeheartedly. Selmak just asked that Jake be the father because he said your father had this huge hole in his heart where you and Mark once belonged, and it wasn't healing," Janet said.

Janet wiped her eyes, and then laughed.

"That's the story," she admitted. "Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with your father, and he with me, and then I realized that I loved Selmak, too. Selmak has a large burden of grief and sorrow that he carries, and it seemed to lighten when Malcolm was born. Your father was hopeless with diaper duty, but Selmak taught him a lot of that stuff. Quickly, too, as your father was really skating on thin ice there for a bit."

Samantha smiled, and then Janet whispered her a good night. Janet left the room then, leaving her alone, with the exception of the little red pill.

And then Samantha picked up the pill, and rolled it in her fingers.

* * *

Jake was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was listing his Book of the Dead, and he was stuck on the first two names. He couldn't get past those two names, and Selmak was no help, as she was wailing her own heartbroken grief in his head, much like a mad banshee on the shores of an Irish lake. Because in spite of what Selmak had said to Samantha, she knew whose fault it was with George and Samantha.

Jacob Carter and Selmak had created Frankenstein's monster.

_**Major General George Hammond**_

**_Major Samantha Carter._**

He kept mumbling their names over and over again, and when Janet undressed quickly and climbed into bed with him, he didn't notice. She put her head on his shoulder, and she cuddled closer.

"Jake?" Janet whispered.

"My God, my God, what have I done?" Jake asked. His dark eyes were wet with tears. "I'm so tired, Janet. I know somewhere down deep, I should be furious right now, but all I can think is, I'm so exhausted that I can't think of what to do next. I'm so tired of this war I can't win, the multitudes of people I can't trust, and everything."

"Jacob…"

"Why did I agree to have children with you?" Jake questioned. "What kind of life can I offer them, honestly?"

Janet's smile faded, "Don't say that, you **_love_** Malcolm."

"I do, Janet, and when I first looked at him, I was so damn hopeful that I could be a better father this time around. I'd be there for him, and he'd never go through the shit I put Samantha and Mark through because I thought I had learned from my mistakes. But instead I just keep making bigger ones."

Jake paused and then continued, "Sometimes, I just wish I wasn't in charge of this damn rebellion. Why do I have to be the one to save humanity? Is it really worth saving? Our leaders wiped out our world pretty well. Who's to say that it wasn't the right thing to do? Darwin, survival of the fittest? Maybe humanity shouldn't have survived, maybe we should just rolled on our back and let them slaughter us."

Janet sat up and stared at her husband's eyes for a long moment, "I don't like it when you and Selmak get this depressed, Jake."

"What? Only George can get down in the dumps?" Jake retorted. "I have to speak to him tomorrow, and you'll know what he'll say to me?"

"Don't say it, Jake, **_please_**," Janet begged.

"He'll want to know why I won't let him die," Jake spat. "George believes that I really hate him, because each time he thinks he's found that final escape from all his never-ending pain, I throw him into a sarcophagus, revive him against his wishes, then dust him off and tell him to go out and win this goddamn war. Samantha was supposed to be good for him, like you have been for me. A stable rock, a friend, someone he could **_trust_** besides that damn dog of his."

He looked at her, and his eyes were full of depthless pain.

"He wasn't supposed to turn on her," Jake confessed.

There was a long silence, and then Jake continued talking.

"I'm responsible for turning George into what he is," he admitted. "What he did to Samantha? It's just the latest in my long list of fatherly failures. Oh how I wish Selmak and I had died with the rest of the Tok'Ra."

"I never would have had Malcolm," Janet protested.

"No, you would have probably have settled down with a decent guy like Daniel Jackson, and you'd be constantly picking up his coffee mugs," Jake retorted. "But sometimes, I wish I could have met you and wooed you back on Earth. I would have taken you and Malcolm to Disney, Universal, Sea World, anywhere you wanted to take him, I would have been there. But you never would have looked at me twice back then."

"Well, I would have, as you came into the infirmary an awful lot," Janet teased. "And you were bit of a grouch, I seem to recall."

Jake sat up and looked at his wife, and he shook his head. A slow, albeit sad smile crossed his face.

"I would have taken you to Paris for our first anniversary," Jake said softly. "I would have even worn those mouse ears in Disney."

"I don't like French food," Janet teased. "Go to sleep, tomorrow is another day."

Jake sighed and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

"That's the worse thing you could ever say to me," he admitted.

* * *

Samantha was in bed, one hand on her belly, and the other hand held a small, red pill.

The child she carried had been conceived not in violence, but with affection and gentleness. She closed her eyes, trying to not to remember that night, but the flashes of memories still came to her. George, frightened by the possibility of permanently blindness, but too proud to admit his fears to anyone, and how she had seduced him that night.

"**_George… tonight, I want you to relax. I'll take care of everything," she had assured him_**.

A hand drawn Mother's Day card, supposedly from a goofy dog named Austin, in which Austin had declared his undying love for his mummy as she gave him lots of doggy treats and let him sleep in her nice, warm bed whenever his cranky daddy wasn't home.

"_**Don't you give up on me," he whispered. "The day you give up on me is the day I kill myself, Samantha."**_

A sparkling aquamarine necklace that was a literal fortune in gems. A gift simply because he had been thinking of her.

"**_I'm so sorry, Kayla, I am. But you'll be meeting Grandma Marie soon… tell her Granddad still loves her…very, very much."_**

George holding the newborn twins, and trying unsuccessfully to hide his tears when she told him Abby's middle name was now Marie.

Then she remembered the injured George, uncaring of his own wounds, weeping while he cradled Austin in his lap; begging Jacob and Selmak to heal Austin as it was the only thing he had left of his granddaughters.

And finally she remembered George Hammond, giving her a slight grin as he pinned on her Major insignia, and how each time a team came back to the SGC through the Gate safe and sound, he had relaxed minutely after counting them and confirming their numbers and that they were all uninjured.

"What do I do now, George?" Samantha asked before she drifted into an exhausted slumber.

She was sitting in General Hammond's office, and General Hammond was sitting next to her. He had her hands in a tight grip.

"What do I do now, George?" Samantha questioned him. 'I'm so scared, and you hurt me."

Like always, the conversation was one sided, as she never understood what he was saying.

"I wish I could understand what you were telling me," she admitted softly. "Do you think I can still love this baby as much as I love the twins, especially after everything you have done to me? I'm not sure, George. It is truly fair for the baby to be born with such a stigma?"

George nodded his head once, and she cried. He released her hands, and hugged her tightly.

"You'll love Emma just as much as you love the twins," he whispered in her ear. "I know you will."

Samantha woke up then, and realized that she had fallen asleep. The little blood-red pill had fallen from her hand, and it lay on the bed. She picked it up, stared at it for a bit, fathoming all the potential in that small single dosage, and then she threw it into a wastepaper basket.

"Austin, I'm lonely, will you join me in bed?" Samantha asked. "I'm upset right now, so I might cry on you."

The Rottie's head popped up over the bedside, and she patted the bed next to her. He jumped into the bed, gave her a smelly doggie kiss and then curled up next to her.

Then she placed her hands on her belly, and whispered a soft hello.

"I think Emma's nice name," she said. "Your mom's a little sad right now, but it's not because of you, I promise. Your daddy's unwell at the moment, but if he was here, he'd be delighted. I know it."


	9. Chapter 9

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 9

Author: Selmak

Introduction: George Hammond and Samantha Carter have to deal with the ramifications of what has occurred between them.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

* * *

They had taken his watch. 

They had taken his shoes and his shoelaces, his belt, and anything else that might provide an escape route for him. He was wearing a set of scrubs, and he growled in exasperation when he realized that the scrub pants had elastics to hold it up, not a tie.

The final straw was that they had removed his eye patch that hid the gaping hole where once he had an eye. George had felt for it, wondering if he could MacGyver a final goodbye. Instead of feeling the smooth patch he had become accustomed to, his fingers had felt scarred tissue.

**_Damn, damn, damn_**, he thought.

Padded walls, nice thick mattress on a bed frame he couldn't move, and God knows he had tried, the art on the wall sealed into the wall somehow, so he could look at it, but not remove it. He had endeavored fruitlessly, much to the damage of his bloody, shredded fingernails.

God, he could do better artwork half-blinded.

Come to think of it, he had. He visualized a sketch he had drawn of Samantha holding Hannah and Abby right after they had been born. She had looked like an angel of salvation, and that picture would have calmed him down much easier than that piece of abstract art on the wall.

The clash of colors was too intense and too loud, and it kept grabbing his attention. The battle being fought between the primary colors was ugly as they were struggling for dominance over everything else while the background color of blood red seeped like an open wound. George had stared at the picture for hours, finally looking away from it when he realized that he was **_falling_** into the picture and there was no escape from the cacophony and madness that it portrayed.

Not very relaxing. Not very soothing at all.

But it kept grabbing his attention, until finally he had covered his one good eye with his hands, like a small child trying to hide from a monster. Better the darkness of eternal night than that sweet compelling madness of dissonant noise and clashing color.

Instead, he focused on Samantha and the girls, Hannah and Abigail, his angels of sanity. The only proof that he was not past redemption was in their blue eyes.

Lunch had been served by a Super Solider in full body armor. He had debated for just a moment at the possibility of trying to knock the Solider down, but there was no way he'd get the weapon. So instead, he had gulped down the sandwich and the cold water quickly, hoping that someone had slipped some poison into the meal.

He got nothing but an upset stomach from eating too fast.

He wanted **_death_**.

Not the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, because after the blessed nothingness faded, he was still left with the horror of his life.

George Hammond opened his eye carefully, to stare at the thin, white scars on his wrist. They were faint, but he could still see them. They had been his first attempt, right after they had settled on New Earth and while Earth was still ablaze from all the nuclear warheads they had deployed.

Naturally, Janet had foiled it.

"I don't know what I did this time, but it must have been pretty bad," he rumbled. "Please God, not Abby, not Hannah, not Samantha, please, please, please, please, I beg you."

Those words were the first words that he had spoken in almost twelve hours, and then George Hammond went silent again, closing his eye tightly shut, with only the ghosts of his dead for company, while trying to ignore the painting's siren call toward warm, comforting insanity.

* * *

The Carter family was holding a conference, and no one wanted to be there. Janet Frasier looked at the other two conference attendees and realized that she needed to speak. And so she began. 

"His serotonin levels are almost non-existent, as is his Norepinephrine level and his dopamine levels are…."

"Janet cut the shit, please," Jake ordered in a rough voice, signifying his emotional unease. "Spill it, is George insane?"

"Clinically?" Janet questioned before looking at her husband and Samantha. The doctor sighed and said, "He's mentally ill, there's no doubt about it, but as for the definition of insanity, George appears…"

"Janet was he sane or not when he attacked Samantha?" Jake growled. "The question is, do I kill him now, or do I wait until he's sane, and then kill him."

"Jacob…" Janet protested.

"I want to see him," Samantha interrupted. "After I talk to him, I'll make the decision whether we medicate him or not."

"Samantha," Jake disagreed gently with her. "You don't have to see him. I'll handle it."

"You've already handled this, Dad," Samantha said in a very bitter tone. "And the results of your meddling have been less than spectacular."

Janet winced when Jake flinched from the venom in Samantha's voice.

"As his wife, and his victim, I get to make the decision. I deserve that right."

Selmak's voice chimed in with Selmak's agreement with Samantha's decision, and then Janet agreed also.

* * *

A female voice ordered George to stand up, and so he did. 

"Stand next to the bed," the toneless voice requested.

He did so, and then a security shield blazed in place around him, before fading to nothingness.

Then the door to his cage opened, and in walked Samantha. She was holding herself stiffly, her arms wrapped around herself tightly, and she was wearing a baggy sweatshirt. Hesitantly, George put his hand out to confirm the field was still in place, separating him from his wife and he received a painful electrical shock for his trouble.

"George, you know you shouldn't do that," Samantha stated in a disapproving voice.

"Samantha?" George questioned. "What's going on?"

"You don't remember?" She laughed.

"No, I don't," George answered quickly. "Why am I here?"

* * *

Walking down to his room in the infirmary was the toughest thing Samantha had ever done. Her hands were shaking, and she wanted to vomit, but instead, she practiced composing herself. Before she entered his room, she put one hand on her belly, and took a deep breath. 

**_Don't worry, Emma, this isn't your fault. Mommy loves you very, very much._**

"I'll go in there with you," her father offered, and then Janet offered also.

"No, this is between me and him," Samantha reminded them. "I want the video and tapes off."

Naturally, they protested, but somewhere in this ordeal, she had found an icy inner core of untapped strength. She **_would_** get home to her time, and she'd use George to do it. He was close to cracking. If she shattered him, he'd no longer be in the way to prevent her from going home.

He was the dangerous one as he **_always_** kept his one blue eye on whatever she was doing. George's scrutiny on her activities would make it impossible for her to ever get home.

Survival and **_escape_** were her two goals.

And to do that, she'd have to destroy his tenuous hold on his sanity.

Then she entered the abyss to face the monster.

George was standing next to his bed, and he was rocking on his feet. He saw her, and his ravaged face lit up hopefully as he reached out for her. George jumped back when he got an electrical shock from the security shield, and Samantha couldn't help but ridicule him.

It was a trick she had learned from O'Neill; when you were afraid of someone such as Ba'al, you openly ridiculed the monster to his face, to prove to one and to all that he didn't still possess power over you.

"George, you know you shouldn't do that," she mocked.

He turned to face her, and the monster, with the ruined face, seamed with old scars and burn marks, smiled because he saw his victim.

"Samantha, what's going on?" George asked.

"You don't remember?"

"No, I don't. Why am I here?"

Samantha laughed, and her laughter seemed to make George uncertain. He shrugged his shoulders, and appeared to withdraw into himself.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Samantha questioned.

"I'm not sure," George admitted. "How about I let you tell me whatever you want?"

She gave him a smile.

"Good news is, I'm pregnant, George."

"Really?" His face lit up, but then the light extinguished quickly to be replaced by a darker emotion. "Who's the father?"

"What do you mean, **_who's_** the father?" Samantha spat.

"I got my implants before the twins were born, I got it in my right arm; Janet put it in." George rolled up his right sleeve to display a beefy arm that was crisscrossed with old scars. He pointed to a spot in the middle of the newest scars. "Put it right there."

"You got it before you got hurt, rescuing Paul Davis?" Samantha questioned.

That was a new scar from the rescue of Paul. Maybe George hadn't deliberately gotten her pregnant, but his implant had failed due to the injury of the surrounding tissue.

"I haven't rescued Paul in a couple years; he's actually learning how to keep himself out of trouble. Is he running things while I'm here?" George questioned. "Good, Paul is a good right hand man for Jake."

"They buried Paul today," Samantha informed him.

George stopped and mouthed, "They **_buried_** Paul today?" and he appeared confused. Then he got closer to the field, and he stared at her, stopping just a hair's width from being shocked.

"Paul's dead?" George shook his head, and he rubbed his head with his hand. "Didn't anyone think I'd want to know? Someone should have told me."

"George, you mean you don't know Paul's dead?" Samantha questioned in complete disbelief.

"No, I didn't know. How'd he die?"

"You broke his neck, George," Samantha stated.

"What?" George protested. "I killed Paul? Who said that? I want to know who's spreading the lie that I killed Paul. I didn't kill Paul. I wouldn't kill Paul! Paul's a friend! I LOVED HIM LIKE A SON! _YOU TAKE THAT BACK, YOU BITCH!** YOU WHORE! WHO'S THE FATHER OF THAT BABY? WHO WERE YOU SLEEPING WITH? I HAVEN'T FUCKED YOU SINCE THE BABIES WERE BORN, YOU GODDAMN WHORE!"**_

Like a mindless beast, George hit the force field, uncaring of the pain he received from being shocked, as he was so focused on hurting her. Samantha stepped back, even though the two of them were separated by a security shield.

"You tell me who's saying that!" George roared. "Who said I killed Paul? Have them come here and say it to my face, damn them!"

"My father said it," Samantha said.

That stopped George cold, and he stared at her in horror. Then his look of horror turned to confusion. He rubbed his head again, and he appeared truly bewildered by his environment. He looked around, then he saw Samantha, and he moved closer to her, stopping only when the field generated around him.

"Captain Carter?" George drawled. "Is that you?"

"**_Major_** Carter," she said.

"Major Carter, can you help me? I helped you when you were in Cheyenne back in 1969," George questioned in a voice dripping with molasses. "You don't look that much older than when I saw you then."

"Who are you?" Samantha asked.

"Lieutenant Hammond, I gave you money to help you when you were in the past, don't you remember? You were a Captain then, and you used that ray gun on me? Don't you remember? I helped you; can you assist me, please?" "Lt." Hammond pleaded.

Samantha took a deep breath and she hugged herself again.

"What do you need me to do, Lieutenant?" Samantha questioned.

"Can you help me get out of here? There's a lady here, and she's telling me it's 2012, and I know it's not. It's 1969, isn't it?" "Lt." Hammond questioned. "Please, she told me that my wife is dead, she can't be dead, Major. I saw her this morning, and she was **_pregnant_**. I have a little girl named Marjorie and I need to get back home to Marie and Marjorie. I don't understand what happened, but I think it's something to do with that time trip of yours. It has to be, because I don't remember anything. I woke up here, I was missing an eye, and I had gotten **_old_**. I'm forty plus years older than I should. Do you know **_why_** this happening to me? Is it because I'm meeting you again?"

"What about Hannah and Abby?" Samantha questioned. "Do you remember them?"

"No, I don't know them. Should I?" Lt. Hammond questioned in concern.

"They're your daughters," Samantha reminded him.

"With Marie?" Hammond answered with some pride. "I had twin girls with Marie? Really? Twin girls? Do you have children of your own? You'll understand then why I want to get home then."

"Yes, I understand why you'd want to get home. But, George, you had the twin girls with **_me_**," Samantha informed him.

"**_What_**?" Hammond questioned. **"_YOU? WHAT?"_**

He was shaking hard. Samantha was inwardly delighted when she realized that George was on the brink of a complete mental collapse, and so she decided to "punch" him as hard as she could, just to push him over that edge of no return.

At one time, she would have been horrified at what she was deliberately doing to George Hammond, but not now. She needed to escape and George needed to pay in spades for what he had done to her.

She put her hands on her belly, and gave him a big smile.

"And we're having another one," Samantha told him.

Then she spoke two words, and she could have sworn that she heard the sound of breaking glass when George's brittle psyche **_shattered _**in a thousand sharp edged pieces.

"Congratulations, **_Daddy_**."

"Lt." Hammond moved away from her, even as he stared at her.

"Marie?" George pleaded softly, before he put both his hands on his head. "Marie? Oh my God, Marie… Marie… Marie…"

Then he began screaming and he wouldn't stop.

"**_MARIE!"_** George roared. **_"MARRRRRIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!" _**

* * *

Jake Carter sat down next to his daughter, and he hesitantly put his arm around her. She didn't shrug it off, and he kissed her on the cheek. 

"You saw him, you spoke with him, and he needed to be sedated by the time you were done with him. What's your decision now?" Jake questioned. "Do you want me to kill him? Or shall we medicate him in the hopes we can salvage something from that train wreck of a man?"

"You make me sound so cruel," Samantha spat.

"What's the difference? A mentally ill man hurts a sane woman because the demons in his head made him. Then that woman deliberately hurts him back, just because she can. Are you happy, Samantha? That you managed to reduce George to a pitiful wreck of a man screaming for his dead wife? He was still begging for her even after we'd restrained him and drugged him the gills," Jake asked, tears in his eyes. "George took your pride from you, he took your self-respect from you, and you did the same thing to him just now. The difference is he used brute force, and you didn't."

"I'm not excusing what he did to you, but somewhere along the way, a line has to be drawn, and it shouldn't be crossed. I've crossed that line, so many times, Samantha, and there's no way I can save my soul now. Please don't cross that line again, Samantha," Jake removed his arm from her shoulder, and he stood up. "I have to go fight a war now; maybe I'll be back wearing my shield. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll be brought back on it."

"I don't have George and I don't have Paul, and I just don't know how we're going to fix everything now. What's your decision, Samantha? You wanted the responsibility and now you have it. You pushed him into the nervous breakdown that he's been skating around for years now."

"I didn't push him," Samantha lied.

"Congratulations, **_DADDY_**?" Jake questioned, and Samantha looked away from him. "Yes, I was watching. You said no videos, no tapes; you didn't say I couldn't watch from behind the painting. It's transparent on the medication room side of the 'quiet room'. I think George knows that there's something odd about the painting as he's tried to remove it a few times. He gives up when the blood is streaming from his fingernails."

"So, life or death? Or you can condemn him to a living death, and keep him locked in that padded cell until he dies. We do have a couple of people from the SGC in similar rooms, might do you good to visit them. We have a wing in the hospital section, specifically for battle fatigue patients. Sometimes, we can medicate them into some resemblance of a normal life, but far too often they stay in that room until they die. We've got five or six of them in rooms right now, besides George, and you know what the worst part of it is? The only people that ever visit them are George and me, as even their families have turned their backs on them. No one ever visits them… **_except for George and me_**…"

Samantha sat in the chair, and she rubbed her belly.

"When I'm as crazy as George and locked in a padded cell, are you going to turn your back on me?" Jacob questioned. "Janet won't admit it, but she's scared that what happened to George is going to happen to me. Get comfortable with George in there, because I'm probably going insane next. I've seen everything that George has, but the only difference is, I didn't see Mark and his family slaughtered."

"Sammy, when I'm locked up in a nice padded cell, probably in the room next to George, are you going to visit your old man? Are you? And are you going to taunt me like you did to George? Will you be happy when I shatter like George did? You saw that he was shaky, you saw your chance, and I saw my daughter **_smile_** just before she put her hand on her belly and congratulated that sick man on their baby. You can say George has changed, you can say that about Selmak and me, but look at yourself, Samantha. Are you proud of what you did?"

"Will you laugh in delight when I shatter from this insupportable weight I'm carrying?" Jake questioned his daughter softly. "It's only a matter of time, Sammy. What do you want me to do with George?"

She shook her head, refusing to answer him.

"Answer me," her father intently insisted. "You wanted the responsibility; you wanted to make the decision… so tell me… what do you want?"

"Medicate him," she said softly.

Sam's father placed one hand on her face and he looked into her blue eyes.

"Whatever you do, don't lose your humanity, Samantha. George and I have, and we need you and Janet to remind us of what we've lost. George and I have stared into that abyss for too long, Samantha, and the abyss has consumed us. The only hopes we have left are you, Janet and the kids," her father said softly.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you, Samantha, I am," he assured her.

To his complete unsurprise, his daughter couldn't look in his eyes for long, because if a man's eyes were the gateway to his soul, his eyes were made of blood and ashes, death and destruction.

"I love you, Samantha," he whispered.

She nodded her head, and she said nothing more because after all, what was there left to say?

* * *

The days and weeks passed while Jacob was leading the fight against the Goa'uld System Lords. Dr. Elizabeth Weir was in charge of the New Earth Government while he was away, and she often stopped by to converse with Janet. Samantha didn't get involved with the day to day running of New Earth, as she was focused on more important things, her work in the lab, her children and her clandestine attempts at getting home. 

She was staying with Janet while her new apartment was being painted, and Janet was trying to convince her to talk to her about her feelings toward George and what had happened to her. Normally, she would brush Janet off, but sometimes, she would admit to Janet that she was _angry_.

It was only in her dreams that Samantha could admit her true feeling. Every night, in her dreams, she cursed and screamed about this ultimate betrayal by her CO until her voice was raw, while she repeatedly hit a passive, unmoving General George Hammond. He stood there, just watching her with an unreadable look in his blue eyes while she screamed and raved at him and punched him. It was only after she collapsed onto the floor and wept uncontrollably that he moved toward her.

He'd sit on the floor next to her and hold her, rocking her until she stopped crying.

_I trusted my father. I trusted you. Oh my God, I trusted you. Then you raped me. And then I knowingly and willingly pushed you into having a nervous breakdown. At what cost should I keep trying to escape back to my time?_

_What will happen when I get home? Can I tell you what happened to me? What you did to me? It'll destroy you, I know it will. Because you're not this type of man, and this monster that wears your face was created by Kinsey. Can I go home, look into your eyes, and tell you that your grandchildren are doomed to die? And must I tell you what you have turned into?_

_Must I tell you what I've become?_

* * *

She was scribbling in her notebook one night, trying to determine how much voltage was needed to send her forward in time initially when Janet sat down next to her. As her father wasn't home yet from his latest battle, Samantha was still staying with Janet. It was a little easier to have help with the babies. 

"Samantha, George was asking about you today," Janet informed her softly.

"That's nice," Samantha said. She continued scribbling, and then Janet put her hand on the book.

"I'm writing," Samantha protested.

"He's your husband, Samantha," Janet stated quietly.

"And a mighty fine one he's been," Samantha retorted. "I can't get over that broken rib he gave me for a belated first anniversary present.

"He keeps asking me if he hurt you because you won't visit him," her friend said quietly. "I told him that you're busy with your lab since Jake took McKay with him, and you're busy with the girls."

"It's true," she answered quickly. "It's hard being a single mom."

"Samantha, George doesn't seem to know about this," Janet said as she placed her hand on Sam's slightly budding belly.

"I told him, he must have forgotten. In fact, I told him right before he started screaming for his dead wife," Samantha stated quietly, trying not to remember the bloodcurdling screams of a inconsolable man who realized that he was long past redemption. She looked at Janet intently, and repeated, "I **_did_** tell him, Janet."

"He's got drawings of you and the children up on his wall, Samantha. He drew them all, plus a couple of Austin," her friend continued. "He asked me today if I could convince you to come visit him."

"I can't," Samantha protested. "I still have nightmares about him, and what he did to me."

"I know you do, honey, and I wish that we had a real psychiatrist or a psychologist so you could talk to someone, but…I think you should visit him. Just a short visit, maybe five or ten minutes," Janet suggested. "Maybe you could bring the girls."

"Is it safe?" Samantha questioned in disbelief. "Would you bring Malcolm to see George?"

"I already have," Janet stated quietly.

* * *

George sat in a chair, and he was trying not to appear nervous. That meant he wasn't rubbing his hands, straightening his legs, moving around in the seat like he had ants in his pants, no, he was appearing calm, cool and collected. Inside, where no one could see, his heart was racing and his stomach was in knots. 

"Thanks for letting me wear the eye patch," he told Janet. "I won't use it for anything but its ordained purpose. Promise. Scout's honor."

He held his one hand up shakily in an imitation of a Scout's pledge. Janet gave George a gentle smile, and she rubbed his back.

"You look fine, George," she assured him.

She stood up, and he held her hands tightly, preventing her escape.

"Thank you," he said intensely. "I know the only reason why she's visiting me is because of you. Why won't you tell me what I did to her to make her hate me? It's been six weeks since I had my breakdown… breakthrough…I had hoped that she would have visited me before now. Do you think I could go home soon? I miss the girls so much, and I miss Austin. Odd not to be tripping over that damn dog."

George's hopes faded when he saw Janet shake her head.

"I don't like it here," he said softly. "I hate that damn picture on the wall. It's all madness and chaos, and I hate it. I'm lonely here, Janet, you're the only one that ever comes to visit. Have I thanked you for bringing Malcolm?"

"You have," she assured him.

"I wanted to make sure that I didn't forget," he said. Then in a quieter voice, "Has Jake washed his hands of me? He hasn't visited me, thought he might have by now."

"No, he would never do that," Janet stated firmly. "He's away because he's leading the attack against the System Lords. I expect him back shortly. Jake always asks about you when he calls. I've told you that before, George. Nothing's changed."

He rubbed his hands together, and sighed.

"Why can't I wear real clothes? It would make me feel human," George questioned. "I know, I know, it's the damn blood levels. My serotonin is still in the cellar, and you're worried I might hang myself."

"The level hasn't increased, George, and I won't release you until it's back to normal again," Janet reminded him.

"Will you tell me what I did to end up here?" George asked. "I have these whole blocks of time where I don't remember anything. Did I do something really bad, Janet?"

There was a slight chime of a doorbell, and Janet tugged her hands free.

"I have to help her with the girls," Janet said softly. "You'll do fine, dear."

"I hope so," George admitted. "They're the only things I have to live for."

* * *

Samantha rang the doorbell to the "Visitor Room" which was connected to George's "Quiet Room" aka the Padded Cell and she motioned for Austin to settle down. Janet opened the door, and she gave Samantha a warm smile. 

"He's nervous," Janet admitted.

"Know the feeling," Samantha retorted.

"You didn't bring the girls?" Janet questioned when she realized it was just Samantha and Austin.

"Abby has a cold, and they were cranky, I thought it would be better if they had a nap," Samantha lied.

"Don't lie to me, Samantha, you can tell me that you don't trust George with his daughters," Janet retorted. "Just tell him that the girls are sick."

Samantha nodded her head.

Austin was being unruly, and he bounded into the room while Janet was still opening the door. With a happy bark, he lunged toward George and then the dog jumped in his lap, where he proceeded to lick George frenziedly.

"Someone missed me," George laughed. "Now you know that you're being a very bad dog, Austin, so sit."

Austin gave George a look of reproach for not appreciating his doggie love, and he jumped off George, landing on the floor with a mighty thud. He then sat down next to George's legs where he rested his head on George's sock covered feet.

"Austin, get your head off my feet," George ordered, and the dog moved his head reluctantly.

George then stood up, and he stood awkwardly as he seemed unsure of where to put his hands. He finally put them into his pant pockets. He was wearing green surgical scrubs, and he was shoeless.

"Samantha? You didn't bring the girls?" George asked softly. "I was hoping… I could see them."

"Abby has a head cold and Hannah might have caught it," Samantha lied.

George abruptly looked at her, and then he looked away. Unexpectedly, she realized that George **_knew_** that she was lying, and then he grimaced a smile to let her know that he understood exactly why she was lying.

"That's a good idea, Samantha. Shows what a good mom you are," he said softly. "Don't want them getting… **_sick_**."

"I brought some recent pictures of them, though," Sam said quickly.

She extended her hand to George, and in it there were several pictures of the girls.

"I've been taking my medication," George blurted just as rapidly. "My levels are better, may I come home please? I'll keep taking the medication, I swear, Samantha."

"George, it's not Samantha's decision," Janet reminded him. "It's **_mine_**."

George shook his head as he answered Janet. "No, the reason why I'm here is because of Samantha. She put me here, and now that she's finally comfortable enough to visit me, she'll tell me why I'm here. I don't know what I did. Did I hurt you, Samantha? Please tell me that I didn't hurt you or the girls, _**please**_?"

Samantha stepped back for a moment, the pictures of the girls still clenched in her hand.

"Please," George begged. "Tell me what I did."

"You had a nervous breakdown, George. Due to repeated usages of the sarcophagus, you had…." Samantha stated in a dry emotionless voice.

"I know I had a nervous breakdown, and I know it's because my brain chemistry levels were all fucked up from too many trips to the tank, but I want to know what I did to you." George questioned and then his voice turned very soft and childlike, "Did I do something bad?"

"Yes," Samantha stated in a shaky voice, "You did something exceptionally bad to me."

"I'm so sorry, Samantha, I am, but I still don't know what I did," George admitted. "What did I do?"

Samantha shook her head, and refused to answer. George then looked at Janet.

"I want to go back to my room now, please," George requested. His defeated blue eye was full of tears. "Please? I want to go my room now. **_Please_**?"

Janet nodded her head, and she took George by the arm.

"Come on, I'll take you to your room, George," Janet said softly.

"Why did you bring me back?" George questioned. "Couldn't you have let me die? Why do you hate me so much, Janet? I thought you were my friend. You're the only that ever visits me, but it's because you hate me, you enjoy seeing me like this."

"It's not that, George, it's not that," Janet stated in a soothing voice.

"What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?" George questioned again. "Every time you put me into the tank, Janet, I'm praying to whatever God that might be listening to me, that this time, you're putting me in a coffin. And then I wake up, and I've put back into the game again. I'm so tired, Janet. **_Why won't you let me die_**?"

He turned to face Samantha, and he reached for her, knowing that she'd pull away from his corrupting touch.

"Samantha, please? Talk to your father, tell him I want to die…**_please_**…"

She retreated from him, and she hugged herself.

"Please, if you have any respect for the man I once was, you'll talk to Jacob…" George pleaded. "Convince him to put me down. One bullet, Samantha, that's all I'm asking for. I'll thank you when you pull the trigger, Samantha."

* * *

Samantha felt nauseated by George's request, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from vomiting. 

"You'd do it, wouldn't you? If you had the gun, Samantha? Please, think about it. I'd thank you forever, Samantha… One bullet… that's all I'm asking."

His voice was soft, pleading and with a tinge of desperation.

"Tell him not to bring me back next time, Samantha… _please_…" George begged.

"George… you're upsetting Samantha and me. Please stop," Janet interrupted. "Stop it, George."

"Give me the bullet, Samantha, please. Just don't let them know, as they'll put me back in the tank, Samantha… They won't let me die, though I've long given up on my life," George pleaded.

Selmak's First Prime turned to Janet, and he shook his head in tired defeat.

"I want to go my padded room," George said quietly. "I don't want her visiting me anymore. Don't make her visit me, Janet."

Janet took his arm and began walking him toward the door. But Samantha gingerly handed the pictures of the girls to Janet.

"Here, let him have these."

George just nodded his head in acknowledgement, and Janet continued to escort him to his room. The door opened and then they entered it, leaving Austin and Samantha in the room.

"Great, there's no door handle," Samantha noticed. "How am I supposed to get out?"

* * *

George was trembling, and Janet was trying to soothe him. She escorted him to his bed, and told him to sit down. He did so, and he continued to shake. 

"I'm going to give you something so you can sleep, George," she said slowly as if to a child. "Why don't you look at the pictures of your daughters while I get the medication?"

He nodded, and he stared at the pictures, trying to memorize them as though fearful someone would take the pictures from him.

"Where do you want me to put them?" Janet questioned.

"The wall by the bed, so I can look at them when I'm in bed," George decided after pondering the thought for a long while.

"Roll your sleeve up," Janet requested, and then she dabbed a little alcohol on his arm after he had done so. "You'll feel a pinch."

She then injected the medication, and she then told him to lie down on the bed. George did so, and then she pulled the covers over him.

"I'll give you the tape, and you put the pictures on the wall," Janet informed him.

George nodded his head, and it took a great deal of time for George to put the five pictures up as each had to be placed just so. Finally, he was happy with their placement. Then he touched each picture carefully, and then he remained curled up on his left side, so he could still see the pictures.

"Which one is that?" Janet said, pointing at a picture of one girl.

"Hannah," George answered promptly.

"How do you know?" Janet questioned, as she thought it was Abby in the picture.

"Her eyes are a deeper blue than Abby's," George said quickly. "Plus a hundred other things."

"Go to sleep, George," Janet said softly.

"Janet?" George questioned.

"Yes, George," Janet answered.

"Is the reason why Samantha won't tell me she's pregnant… is because… the baby is the result of the bad thing I did?"

"George, how much do you remember?" Janet questioned.

While she wasn't trained as a psychologist, she had been trying to work with George. Some days it was easier than others, and today had been a good day. George had been so looking forward to seeing his daughters, and he had been level-headed and well-spoken. When he realized the reason why Samantha wasn't allowing him to see his children, it had gotten him rattled and depressed. Now, he was retreating back, his speech slower and molasses thick with a Texas twang.

"He hurt her," he said slowly. "He kept hitting her and calling her bad names, and I couldn't stop him. I tried… I really did, I was screaming at him to stop, but he wouldn't, even while she was trying to stop him… and he carried on hurting her even when she was begging me to stop hurting her. I wasn't hurting her, I swear. It's my fault though, because I couldn't control him. He did such things to her... and he **_desecrated_** what was supposed to be an act of love between two people."

"George," she asked, not for the first nor the last time, wishing there was a trained psychologist on New Earth, not just an overworked medical doctor, to help him. "Who can't you control?"

"When I black out, he's in control, and I never know what he does, until later," he said. "The Monster… the Satan that's inside of me… he does things… such horrible things and…I can't stop him…He killed Paul… Janet…**_Paul_**..."

"Then how do you know what he did to Samantha?" Janet intently questioned, wondering if she had caught George in a lie.

"I tried really hard to stop him, I couldn't let him hurt her, she's my wife. He was mad with me because I was fighting him, so he took it out on her," George drawled. He put his hands together as though he was praying. "He told me that he wouldn't have hurt her so bad except for the fact that I was resisting…but I **_couldn't _**let him hurt her…"

"You hear him?" Janet questioned.

"Sometimes…not so much now…" He admitted. "He just laughs now…when I can't sleep… he laughs… and then I realize that I'm laughing with him…and I can't stop, Janet..."

"Why do you keep asking what happened then if you know what occurred?" Janet wanted to know.

"I was hoping that she'd realized that I wasn't the one that raped her," he said softly. "Oh God, Janet, you should have let me die. It would have been so much healthier for her and the baby. The stigma that poor child will forced to carry through its life."

"George, I'm going to give you another shot of medication," Janet then decided to give him some sort of comfort. "Listen to me, the baby was conceived a week or so before it happened, George."

He didn't respond; as he was too busy staring at the pictures of his children. Janet rubbed his shoulder for a bit, and then she reached over for the vial of medication. She drew the medication into the syringe, and then she jabbed him in the arm.

"Pleasant dreams, George," she whispered. "Tomorrow will be a better day."

* * *

Janet exited the room, and she blinked in exhaustion, mere moments from breaking down into a marathon of crying. To her surprise, she wasn't alone as Samantha was sitting on a couch, and Austin was sitting next to her, his large head in her lap. Sam was stroking the dog, and she had tears in her eyes. 

"Oh God, Sam, I forgot, you can't get out of the room. I'm sorry," Janet quickly apologized. "There's a palm reader on the door, and I didn't put your id in."

"Is he normally like that?" Samantha asked. "He has no idea what he did to me? Does he always ask to die?"

"He has his good days and his bad days. Let's go home, Samantha. We can eat ice cream, and do each other's toe nails."

"He really doesn't know what he did to me?" Samantha repeated.

"Samantha, please, let's go home," Janet repeated. "Let's talk there; I can't stand to be in this room for another minute longer than I have to be."

* * *

The two of them were sitting on the couch in Janet's living room. Their shoes had been kicked off, their feet were resting on the coffee table, confining waistbands had been unzippered and unbuttoned, and they each had a pint of ice cream that they were industriously trying to eat as both developing babies needed their calcium. 

"What I would do for some Ben and Jerry's "Half-Baked" ice cream," Janet confessed, after she licked the spoon slowly, trying to savor the taste. "Or even "Chocolate Therapy". It's not even funny."

Samantha smiled and she waved her spoon at Janet.

"This isn't bad," she lied.

"It's **_horrible_**," Janet protested.

"Janet, let's stop talking about ice cream," Samantha protested.

Janet smiled at Samantha, and before Samantha could speak, Janet had taken a spoonful of her chocolate ice cream and had put it into Samantha's mouth.

"Ah, George. It was one of his better days, as he was able to get dressed and hold a conversation," Janet admitted. "On his bad days, he just turns his face to the wall, and he won't do anything except stare at his drawings. Thank you, by the way, for the pictures, he has asked me for some, but I told him that you'd have to give them to him."

Samantha chiseled away at the tasteless, yellowish frozen stuff that might have been vanilla ice cream and sighed. What she would do for some hot fudge sauce and some marshmallow topping.

And a bright red cherry.

"He doesn't remember what he did to me?" Samantha questioned finally, after swallowing the bland frozen treat.

"He knows exactly what happened to you," Janet admitted.

The two of them continued eating their ice cream, and then Samantha sighed.

"Why does he ask? Does he get his jollies about rehearing how he went berserk on me? About how he beat me… and did other things to me?" Samantha asked, as she slammed the frozen ice cream onto the table.

Janet gave her a friend a comforting smile, and Samantha's face plainly said that she didn't want any of that shit.

"George talked to me about it today; it's the first time he's mentioned that he actually knows what happened. Don't get angry with me, Samantha, but he told me that he was hoping you realized that he didn't do it," Janet said.

Samantha turned to face Janet, and she slammed her right hand into her left hand over and over again, trying not to give into the dark emotions of fear, betrayal and hate that she felt toward George.

"I can't stand to have any male close to me. I can't stand having my father hug me. Siler and Davis freak me out when they get too close to me, and he says he didn't do it? Oh my God, Janet." Samantha spat.

"Listen to me, I'm trying to explain. George said that he witnessed what was occurring and that he tried to stop it," Janet explained.

"Oh, someone else did this to me? Funny, all my nightmares are of **_him_**…" Sam protested. "His hands, his fists… his weight on top of me, crushing me so I can't breath…and I'm just praying that it will end… and it won't… because… it happens over and over and over again. And he says such things about me…"

She shuddered at those dark memories, and Samantha resisted when Janet gave her a quick hug.

"No, he says that was someone else in charge of his body," Janet admitted.

"I thought you were my friend," Samantha forcibly stated. She crossed her arms in front of her, determined not to let Janet see how she was shaking.

"I **_am_**," Janet insisted.

"Why do you constantly defend him then?"

"I don't defend him or what he did, but he's **_ill_**, Samantha," Janet stated quietly.

She put down her ice cream, and looked at Samantha.

"He's a sick man, Samantha. The George Hammond I knew would never have done that to you, and I have to hope that somewhere in that very sick man, George Hammond is fighting to regain control. I **_have_** to believe that," Janet tersely said, as she stood up from the couch.

"Why is it so important to you?" Samantha questioned.

"Because I look at George, and I see that illness that has consumed him. I fear that complete loss of hope that eats away at your soul like a cancer, and I know that bleakness is starting to affect Selmak and Jacob. I can't lose them. Not after losing Cassandra," Janet admitted. "I had hoped that Malcolm would be enough to give them some peace, but it wasn't."

"Even this," Janet said, as she placed her hand on her belly. "The child I'm carrying that Jacob, Selmak and I created, isn't enough."

She wiped the tears from eyes.

"I'm so emotional, damn it," she admitted. "It's just… I can't bear to lose them, not after everything we've been through these past few years. And if I can't heal George, how can I hope to heal those two souls that I love more than life itself? How am I supposed to look at Malcolm, if I give up my hopes that the real George still exist? If I give up on George, I give up on Jacob and Selmak."

"Please, Samantha, you've got to help me with George," Janet begged. "I can't do this alone. I can't lose them, not after Cassandra."

Janet broke down into tears, and Samantha reached for her. Gently, she rocked Janet, allowing her to cry.

"I have to heal George," Janet wept. "Because he's the only hope I have for Selmak and Jacob. Their blood chemistry levels are off, Samantha. I haven't told them, and I've been sneaking medication into their food… and the levels are **_still_** decreasing, Samantha. I can't lose them."

Janet wept for a bit, and Sam continued to rock her.

"I can't get their blood levels up. Jake, Selmak and George, they're self-destructing right before my eyes and I can't fix them," Janet sobbed.

Sam whispered soothing nonsense to Janet who continued to weep.

"It's just so upsetting. He tried so hard," Janet explained in between sobs. "You don't know how hard he tried."

"Dad?"

"George… He tried so hard to keep functioning. Even while Earth was burning, George kept everything together, the Earth evacuation, setting up a new home world, dealing with the Jaffa as they were threatening to go their own way… He kept trying even though he was falling into this bottomless depression. There were days when it took him **_hours_** to get out of bed and dressed. Your father would get up early just so he could get George out of bed and into a clean uniform."

"George always bitterly joked that getting out of his bed in the morning was the hardest part of his day. But he wasn't joking and your father would have to goad him into it….And then I found George at his desk one morning… he was wearing his dress blues… and he had slit his wrists almost to his elbows just trying to escape... that was the first time he tried… but it wasn't the last…"

"I'll go see him tomorrow," Samantha said quietly. "I'll bring the girls."

* * *

The medications had let him sleep for a bit, but not for too long, as when he was sleeping, the dreams came. 

_Kinsey holding the bloody knife against Lena's throat. _

_Bow before your God! _

_Lena's last brave words, "Fuck you! I didn't vote for you for President nor did I vote for you to become my God! LAST TIME I LOOKED IT WASN'T AN ELECTED POSITION!" _

_Blood that gushed in a crimson waterfall. _

_Kayla and Tessa screaming._

_Hitting Samantha over and over again while a horrified part of him shrieked at himself to stop it while yet another part of him was deeply satisfied that the smug bitch finally had first hand appreciation of the never-ending agony he had been through these past few years. She'd scream alright by the time he was done while still another part of him screamed over and over again, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?_

He touched the picture of Hannah carefully.

_I love you. I would die for you and your sister and consider the deal more than fair._

The twins were his talisman, his charm against the growing insanity that was slowly taking him over, bit by bit. If Samantha had allowed him to see his daughters, he would have been stronger, able to keep the monster at bay for another day. But she hadn't, and so instead, he had walked the night away, trying not to let the monster win.

But that soft, subtle voice kept goading him that Samantha hadn't brought the girls; she had claimed that they were sick, but the truth of the matter was she was terribly afraid of him, and what he might do to the girls.

And he couldn't blame her, as he was terrified of the monster within.

* * *

The soft chime sounded, warning him that Janet was about to visit. Sometimes, when George was feeling alert, he'd make the effort to get changed and dressed in the off chance Janet would visit. But today, today was a very bleak day. 

He pulled the bedcovers over him, hoping that it was breakfast, uncertain when he had staggered to his bed to try and get some sleep. The silent Super Solider would drop off the food and leave. But… wait, breakfast had already been served and he hadn't eaten it. Maybe it was lunch? Dinner? Time was one big blur to him.

"Get up sleepyhead," Janet teased, as she opened the door.

In the background, he heard the cooing of a baby.

"Brought…. Malcolm to see… his crazy uncle?" George managed to rasp in a husky voice.

"No…" said a very familiar voice. "I brought Abby and Hannah to see their father."


	10. Chapter 10

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 10

Author: Selmak

Introduction: George Hammond and Samantha Carter continue to deal with the ramifications of what has occurred between them and someone is **_not_** happy with George.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

* * *

George's heart rose from his ankles to about the level of his knees after he heard Samantha's voice and the gurgle of the twins. But his stomach, on the other hand, dropped to below sea level.

"They're here," he whispered to Janet. "She brought **_them_**."

"Yes," Janet said with a slight smile. "Take a quick shower, and change. Then you can visit."

George rubbed his cheeks, sighing when he felt his five o'clock shadow. Of all the days not to be showered and shaved, he thought morosely. If he had only known that Samantha was visiting, he would have showered and shaved and insisted on real clothes. He shouldn't look like the disheveled psycho he truly was when Samantha… **_who he had violated_**… visited him in his locked, padded cell. No, he had to be a **_man_**, not a mindless beast. A man that appeared lucid and coherent, which he wasn't, really, and also very, very remorseful and repentant, which he was in spades.

George hadn't slept at all last night, obsessively pacing the length of his padded cell, hoping that if he walked long enough he'd come up with an elegant solution to the heartbreaking tragedy he had created. A selfless act of love to balance the wrong he had done to her.

The only possible answer to the situation had finally come to him, like a bolt of lightning from the Gods.

**_He'd get her back to her own time. _**Somehow, somewhere he would get Samantha and their children home safely… **_and away from him and the monster inside_**.

Then after the icy blue wormhole of the Gate closed behind her, the children and Austin one last time, leaving him utterly alone with only his overwhelming guilt for company, he'd eat his gun.

His suicide would be his final sacrifice in an uncountable list of forfeitures and losses required of him by a God, that at one time had been merely apathetic in reference to him, and who now was actively striving to have him broken and crucified. His final offering toward that unseeing, vengeance craving God would be his life, a consecrated suicide anointing the steps leading toward the Gate; just for the sake of symmetry and his own sense of the perverse.

And just maybe, just maybe his offering of an absolute penance would ensure that Samantha would be smart enough to prevent this time line from occurring. But the kids would disappear, but she'd never know the heartache of their loss because she never would have had them as she never would have been force to bed him.

For a moment, he wondered how it would end. Would he kiss his gun before the time line fixed itself? Or would it end at that very moment that icy blue whirlpool closed behind her, as everything would be put right again? SG1 would return home, safe and sound. Samantha Carter would walk down the ramp, unknowing of what he had inflicted on her.

She'd never know.

_**He'd never know.**_

God knows he couldn't make the time line **_worse_**.

His head ached, a constant, nagging reminder of how close he had been to buying the farm until an uncaring Jacob decided that his karmic debts were still unpaid, and that he was to be tanked, healed and sent out into the game again.

But he had to be stronger emotionally to get her home again, he knew and he had to fool everyone… especially Jacob Carter and Selmak who knew him far too well… The two of them would be furious with him over what had occurred and he'd have to walk carefully with them. They'd probably want to kill him, and while once he would have gladly allowed them that pleasure, George needed to stay alive, just so he could get Samantha home.

"Not enough time to shave me is there?" George asked hopefully.

"No," Janet answered quickly. "Shower, change. We brought lunch, so make it quick."

Then before she left the room, Janet pointed at a small package that was sitting on the table.

"I brought you some clothes," Janet said. "No laces, no belts, nothing you can use for a final escape, but they're nicer than what you're wearing now."

"Bless you," George said with great sincerity.

* * *

"Daddy will be delighted to see you," Samantha informed Hannah. "I know he misses you."

She crossed her arms, hugging herself for reassurance, hoping and praying that this was the right decision. Hannah continued to gurgle happily for a bit, and Samantha reached over to her daughter. The amount of love she felt for her daughters always surprised her. It wasn't surprising that she loved them, but the fact that every time Samantha saw them, the love that she felt for them multiplied. A gurgle, a coo, even the smelly diapers just made her love for her daughters grow by leaps and bounds.

"You are my miracles," she whispered. "Without George, I wouldn't have you."

And that was the crux of her problems, the incomprehensible enigma known as George Hammond. God above, how she hated and feared him for that what had happened that one night. Yet, how could she not think of how many times George Hammond hadn't given up on SG1 after their misadventures? Daniel and his nastiness while he had been going through sarcophagus withdrawal, that incident involving that chittering, fickle, pleasure seeking Urgo had been implanted in their brains causing no end of mischief, that truly embarassing mess with Hathor where she had knocked him out cold and instead of presenting her with a court martial, he had proudly given her an **_AWARD… _**for knocking out her CO!

Last night she couldn't sleep as memories of the old George Hammond had kept haunting her and disrupting her sleep. Memories about how George had secretly invited her father to see her receive an award from the President, and how delighted he had been when he realized that he had kept it a secret from her. The thousand and one small things he had done secretly, so no one on the base ever knew what he was doing.

And she remembered walking in on Sgt. McCaughey and George in the locker rooms. Shannon McCaughey had been weeping; upset that her deadbeat ex-husband hadn't paid child support again, so there would be no Christmas for her kids that year. George had spoken to the Sergeant at length, finally ending the conversation with a gentle threat after slipping a roll of green bills into her hands.

_Kids deserve a Christmas, Sgt. There was a Christmas where things were kinda rough for me and my wife. Just had our second daughter and we had just been re-stationed. No money for presents let alone a tree as our car had keeled over and died right after we pulled into our new driveway for the first time. My CO did this for me with the instructions to pay it on forward, which I have over the years. Though if you tell anyone what I just did, I'm busting you back to Airman, is that understood? I have my reputation to maintain as the Cranky Old Man of the Mountain._

The multitude of strings he had pulled to ensure that Cassie ended up with Janet, rather than at some research facility and his blatant refusal to admit that he actually pulled those strings in the first place.

She shook a rattle in front of Abby, and she found herself talking to her daughters.

"Your father wasn't born like this, you understand. At one time, he was the very embodiment of an officer and a gentleman. You would have been proud to have that George as your father. He never left anyone behind, and he always kept a watchful eye on his teams. Your father even went head to head with the NID and Senator Kinsey a few times," Samantha admitted.

She wiped her eyes, trying to not remember how it was Kinsey that had killed George's family while he had watched, helpless to intervene. That singular action had pushed George down the dark path she now found herself on.

"I wish I could believe that man is still somewhere inside of him, but I'm not sure," Samantha explained. "I worry that everything that was good and honorable about him has been twisted and warped by all the pain that he's experienced these past few years."

_And I deliberately added to it, just so I could try and escape. The old George would understand, I know, even approve of what I had done… but it doesn't make it any easier. Like it or not, George is the father of my children, and that's a bond that can't be broken easily. _

Austin padded over to her and the dog nudged her hand, gently letting her know that he wanted some affection from his mum.

"George cried when you got hurt after that assassination attempt," Samantha remembered softly. "He made sure that I was OK, and then he worried about you. George made my father put you into the tank, because he couldn't lose you."

Samantha rubbed the dog's head, and then she hugged the dog.

"Even though his shoulder was a mess, he didn't care about himself at all; he was just worried about you, Austin. He kept rocking you and begging you to hold on until they could put you into the tank."

Samantha exhaled slowly, wishing someone; anyone would tell her if she was doing the correct thing by visiting George. Carefully, she picked up Hannah who was beginning to fuss in all too familiar way. She made a goofy face for her daughter and she began unbuttoning her blouse.

"Time to eat, Hannah?" Samantha asked. "Moo, moo, moo goes the mommy…"

Then the door to the other room opened, and in walked Janet. The small woman gave her a gentle smile, as she sat down next to Samantha on the couch.

* * *

"It's a bad day," Janet informed Samantha as she exited George's room. "So be forewarned."

Janet sat down next to Samantha and she made playful, goofy faces at Abby, who stared at her Granny Janet in concern. The two women sat together for a bit and then Samantha decided to break the silence.

"What are his bad days like? I mean, is it worse than yesterday?" Samantha asked, while she nursed Hannah. She had a blanket covering her and Hannah was suckling like the pro she was. "Should I come back?"

"No, he's not violent, he's just depressed. Very depressed. George doesn't look like he slept very much last night and I had specifically given him additional medication as he was… overwrought. I haven't checked his bio stats from last night to confirm this, but I think he paced the room last night. He does that frequently."

There was a soft doorbell chime, and Janet stood up. "I'll go bring him in."

"Just give me a second," Samantha requested, "I need to button up."

"It'll take a few minutes."

* * *

"Do you think you should restrain my hands?" George asked. "Put them in plastic ties? It'll make her feel safer if I'm restrained."

For a moment, Janet looked at her old friend, and then she nodded her head.

"Probably a good idea," she admitted. "But I won't do that to you. I put you in real clothes, George. When you talk to Samantha, you're going to appear **_human_**."

"I don't want to hurt her again, but let's be realistic, Janet." George protested softly. "Six weeks you've been drugging me, and my levels are still in the cellar."

The diminutive doctor put her hands on his face and pulled George's face down to her level.

"Let me worry about your blood work. If you do anything that makes me concerned George, I'll nail you with a drugged dart at six paces," she promised. "I'm the doctor, you're the General."

"How are Jacob's levels?" Her patient asked. "I know you're worried that he'll flip out like me."

"They're **_fine_**," Janet assured George.

"Lying to me, Janet? After all we've been through?" George questioned her softly. "You of all people I thought would be honest with me."

Janet shook her head, not wanting to answer. Was she being honest with herself let alone George? Or was she trying to fool herself into thinking everything would be **_fine_**? When she was alone at night, she cried herself to sleep, as she was worried that she hadn't been able to cure George yet, and what did that mean for her Jacob and Selmak?

Some days Janet was very depressed, much like George was. She accepted the fact that it was partly because she was pregnant, but mainly it was because she missed Jacob and Selmak. It was mentally and physically exhausting tending to George entirely on her own. How she wished that there was someone, anyone she could trust with him. Leaving him with Brightman long enough to deal with Samantha's injuries had been a tremendous leap of faith for Janet.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Brightman, but George… George was **_family_**.

There was only one light at the end of her day, Malcolm. But then some days she truly missed the emotional support of her husband. Not to mention she would have **_greatly_** appreciated Jacob or Selmak's help with tending to the baby so she could get a good night's sleep.

Plus, simply put, she was scared. Jake and Selmak had never been gone this long before. Not only was she worried about their safety but also she worried about her own.

Gregor Chekov was running the show, overseeing the military defense while Elizabeth Weir was acting as "governor" but Janet didn't trust either of them. Chekov was a solemn old Ruskie who had survived Earth's destruction only because he had been visiting the SGC on an official assignment of some sort. At all times he was pleasant and polite to her, but she didn't trust him. Jake and George could and would drink vodka with Gregor Chekov but Janet couldn't trust him, as she had learned the hard way over the past eight years, complacent and trusting meant **_dead_**.

"It'll kill them, if they hurt you, like I hurt Samantha," George said quietly pulling Janet out of her brief reverie. "I worry about you two being in the same room with me without a guard. What if I get… shaky… again?"

"You forget, I am Selmak's Queen," Janet reminded him as she straightened out his collar, trying to hide her uneasiness. "They won't hurt me nor will you."

"Janet…" George protested, deeply concerned about what he viewed as Janet Fraiser's Pollyanna attitude toward a potentially explosive situation. "I'm trying to warn you… That monster that hurt Samantha, **_he's still inside of me, Janet_**. He's biding his time, watching and waiting for the chance to hurt her again. Be careful, Janet, you're playing with dynamite, girl. I can't stop him."

He paused before admitting the awful truth, "He's laughing right now, Janet…"

She looked up at him, and she put her hands on his face before she spoke to him, "And I believe that you can control him, George. Your levels are **_so_** much better than they were."

"Damn it, Janet," he cursed. "I don't want her hurt again."

"The fact that you're worried about the situation means that you're acting rationally," Janet stated calmly.

"I was always worried, Janet, especially when I was having the blackouts," George protested.

She gave him another smile, and she began fixing the sleeves of his shirt. George was so distracted by the looming possibility for a major catastrophe in the next room, that he failed to notice that she was about to nail him with one of her infamous six inch needles.

Right in the ass, and he growled when he felt the tell-tale prick of a needle in his _Gluteus Maximus. _Damn it, did she have to twist the needle and laugh?

"What the hell?" George said, with some annoyance.

"For anxiety," Janet said with a slight smile. "I don't like nailing someone through their clothes, but that was a special case. Now drop your pants, George and give me another smile."

* * *

By the time he was done being used as a dart board, he was physically exhausted. More importantly, he felt completely rational and the looming anxiety attack that had been threatening to make an appearance had scampered off to bother some other sick soul.

"We're keeping the visit short today," Janet explained. "Plus you're so stressed right now that I had to give you more than I normally would just to take the edge off."

"Thank you, Janet," was all he said but he meant gratitude for so much more than the shots.

Janet smiled at him, and he felt the first glimmer of hope in a very, very long time. Savagely, he beat down on it, because hope in reality, was the worst of all evils because it just prolonged his torment. He had held such **_hope_** for his marriage to Samantha, and he had obliterated any chance for redemption.

"I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don't believe I deserved my friends," George whispered to himself.

"Walt Whitman?" Janet asked with a slight smile. "I knew you were an artist George; I didn't realize that you were into poetry."

"The keenest sorrow is to recognize ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities," George said softly. "I've caused all this, and I don't know how to fix it, Janet."

"I'm going to find you a happier poet," Janet stated quietly. "Don't particularly enjoy Whitman."

"That was Sophocles," George said dryly. "Here's my personal favorite right now. Nietzsche. One should _**die **_proudly when it is no longer possible to **_live _**proudly."

"George, listen to me, I'm not laughing right now," Janet said. "I also don't like Nietzsche because of his idea that women are the rewards of warriors. Somebody needed to remind him that the warriors are the rewards of women, George."

That retort caused him to smile slightly, and he shook his head. Then George informed her, "I can't live like this, Janet. Let me die, please. I'll thank you."

"If you can tell me that **_after_** you hold your daughters in your arms, we'll talk," she said after a long hesitation. "Now, let's go, George. You need to face Samantha now."

* * *

Janet Fraiser was worried. Naturally, she wouldn't admit her unease to anyone, especially not her husband. She needed Jacob and Selmak to return home to her and Malcolm in one piece so she couldn't tell them that George's condition hadn't improved. Not to mention that her continuing distraction of George's declining mental health could easily cause Malcolm and her to be killed! She couldn't allow that to happen. But George's continuing depression was not a very promising sign **_especially_** with his continual requests for assistance in ending his life. He wasn't eating, and the clothes she had gotten for him to wear were far too big for him.

They weren't much.

Blue jeans, a shirt with a muted geometric pattern and a pair of flip flops.

It had taken her several hours to find them, as she had kept rejecting other choices due to the obvious reason. That one had a belt, that one had a drawn string, that shirt… Janet heard shuffling, and she looked at George. She **_really_** looked at him, using the dispassionate eye of a healthcare professional and she was stunned.

Slouched shoulders, shuffling feet, his eye staring at the floor, his hands clasped tightly together. His entire facade was one of intense self-loathing.

What the hell had happened to the Hammond she had once known?

For a moment, she remembered the Old George, at a staff meeting, trying not to laugh at one of O'Neill's witticism. His mien had been solemn and stern, but his blue eyes had been highly amused.

_Oh God, George, please… please… please give me some sign that you're still in there. I desperately need a sign from you, George! Please…for my husband and my sons. For Sam…for your daughters. _

_For the children, George. You need to continue fighting!_

* * *

George slouched in a chair, making sure that he kept his hands clasped together. There was a large table separating him from the two … no four ladies, as his daughters were here, he reminded himself. Fortunately the table was bolted down, and this particular Samson had long since shorn his long, red, curly locks so he wouldn't be able to flip the table.

Austin butted his head against his knee, and George made much of the dog, petting him and talking to him. Then he whispered into Austin's ear the Goa'uld equivalent of "Guard them," and Austin stopped playing and went into guard mode. The dog walked over to Samantha's side and dropped to the floor, pretending to nap, but keeping his ears perked for any sounds of trouble.

Good old Austin, George thought. If he had another breakdown, Austin would defend the girls. It wouldn't be pretty, as he had instructed Austin to go for the attacker's throat, but it would be fast.

"George?" Samantha questioned softly after she stroked Austin's head. "Do you want to hold your daughters?"

He shook his head. While he desperately wanted to hold Hannah and Abby, he wasn't sure if he _should_. Somehow his new found resolve at getting his wife back to her correct time had fled to parts unknown after he had talked to Janet. Now his old lovers, depression and self-doubt, were once again latching unto his soul, their sweet, subtle caresses weakening his hard-fought resolve.

He'd get her home. He would, if it was the last thing he did.

_It would be easier for all if you were dead_, a small voice kept whispering, _because there is no way you'll get your wife back home. You're a colossal fuck up, George_. _You can't even kill yourself without screwing it up._

Samantha was tired, he could tell. Plus she held herself stiffly as though she believed that one false step and she'd shatter in a hundred billion pieces. He also noticed without commenting that Samantha had deliberately chosen the baggiest clothing she could find, trying to conceal her figure behind the bulky sweat shirt and jacket she was wearing.

He looked at her carefully, trying to guess where she had hidden the zat to protect herself and the children. Right jacket pocket, he decided, as there was a "bulkiness" to it that could only be a weapon, and there was no way Samantha would bring the girls in to visit him unless she could defend them.

_Smart girl_, he thought approvingly. _Don't ever trust me again, Samantha. But damn it, you're pregnant. Was the baby really conceived on that night that you took me by the hand and seduced me? Or are you lying to me, Janet, because you know full well that I couldn't handle the truth?_

"No," he whispered after he realized that Janet and Samantha were both waiting for his response. "I don't want to hold them."

His refusal seemed to surprise both women, but he didn't want to explain them that he was afraid to hold his daughters.

What if he did something … **_bad_**…?

He shook his head, trying to mentally block that mocking, insane laughter.

God, how his missing eye still pained him. You'd think that with it gone, that he'd be free of the pain…

"George? We brought lunch. Your favorites," Janet inserted quickly.

"You brought me a Margarita?" He said softly, trying to be funny. "Can't have Tex-Mex without Margaritas."

"Ok, we brought your second favorites," Janet stated quickly, as it was apparent that she hadn't brought Tex-Mex as that would require sharp objects like knives and forks. "Chili dogs, fries…"

She handed a wax paper wrapped object to him, and he hesitantly unwrapped the package to find one hot dog smothered in chili and cheese. To his delight, it actually smelled like a chili dog, and George had to firmly control himself from wolfing it down as unexpectedly he was ravenously hungry.

"Don't worry, I got you a couple," Janet teased.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement. Concentrating on eating his hot dog, he still found himself gazing at Samantha.

* * *

Lunch was a silent affair. Samantha kept looking at Janet, who was daintily eating a hotdog, hoping that she'd start up a conversation. But Janet appeared dejected. Sam couldn't blame her friend. Janet worried about George, **on top** of her worries about Jacob and Selmak away fighting.

Janet being the pint size rock of Gibraltar, attempting to hold the family together. Only problem with the Carter-Fraiser-Hammond family vehicle was there were one wheel was missing with Jake and Selmak gone, one bad wheel known as George, two if you counted the fact that Sam was still suffering from her own wounds and unable to even attempt to be as emotionally strong as Janet.

It's hard to drive a car on two wheels and impossible on one.

But Janet was doing it, however she was no longer able to hide the sadness and worry from showing in her eyes.

Sam couldn't handle witnessing Janet's depression, so Samantha looked at George.

It was equally hard to look at him, as whenever she did, she remembered extremely painful times. George losing control, the sound of a gun shot…

Her hands shook and Samantha put her hot dog down onto her paper plate. Chili dogs? French fries? It had been George's favorite lunch at the SGC on the few times when Janet hadn't been around to keep an eye on his cholesterol. But good God, paper plates? Everything designed to be as safe as possible. The worse thing George could attempt to do is give himself a pain cut of a major blood vessel using one of the paper plates.

Samantha sighed, and looked up. To her surprise, as previously she had noticed that he couldn't bring himself to look at her, George was watching her intently. He had one hand on the left side of his face, trying vainly to hide his scars, and he grimaced when he realized that she was staring at him. There was a strange look in his eye, and Samantha wondered what dark thoughts were brewing in his damaged mind.

Did he know about the zat?

Did he approve?

"How you feeling?" he questioned finally. "Are you feeling sick in the mornings?"

"A little," Sam admitted then added, trying to lighten the mood, "Although, this chili might give me indigestion later!"

Sam's attempt at humor didn't bring out a smile in him or Janet. Hell, it didn't even bring a smile to her face and she thought it was funny. Ok, **_somewhat_** funny.

"Janet keeping an eye on you and making sure you're eating properly?" George seriously asked. "You know you don't…eat like you should."

"Yes, I am!" Janet inserted.

"Good," he mumbled. "Is Jake back yet?"

Janet sighed heavily then answered patiently, "George, I've told you that Jake isn't back yet. He and Selmak have been gone six weeks battling the Goa'uld."

"Six weeks?" George asked in disbelief. "That's **_not_** good. Who's he been fighting against that he'd be gone that long? Ba'al? Jake better have brought Dixon with him, he needs a good right arm man. Weir and Chekov are running things then; Gregor's solid, dependable for a Russkie."

Sam was a little startled; his reaction was almost like that of the old George! The concern for his long time friend was apparent in his blue eye and in his tone of voice. Her heart sped up, this was the moment she had longed for, a glimpse of the man she knew as General Hammond, a good, kind man.

Yes, he had asked indirectly about the baby she was carrying, but still George had asked.

But the moment didn't last. George quickly retreated back into his depression and stopped eating entirely, his fingers absently playing with his untouched French fries that were literally covered in a pool of melted cheese.

Sam's heart sank. She had to turn away from him and looked at her two little girls. It was all too much for her.

* * *

She wasn't imagining things, Janet realized, Sam had just glimpsed him too. The old, caring and compassionate George had been there but only for a moment. He had asked about Samantha and the baby. Satisfied with those answers, especially since Janet was keeping an eye on her, George had quickly added up the figures and surmised who was running New Earth and who Jacob had taken with him. Then he was back to his usual withdrawn self, no doubt blaming himself for having left Jacob alone… He had his one hand covering the left side of his face, rubbing the old scars as though to give himself some comfort.

It was an obsessive gesture of George's, that lover like caress of old scars, only done in front of a select few, as it was a physical disclosure that George felt troubled and was trying to work out his unease.

_Shit! What the hell do I have to do?_

Janet realized that she was…**_overwhelming_** exhausted. The little engine that had kept her running faltered and sputtered from lack of fuel, and she wanted nothing more than to put her head down on the table and weep.

Maybe it was a mood swing she was going through because of her pregnancy, maybe not. Either way, she didn't care and she had to finally speak her mind.

"_**PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS, GEORGE! AND QUIT BEING SO DAMN SELFISH! THERE ARE TWO LITTLE GIRLS WHO NEED THEIR FATHER!"**_

"But…" George started to protest.

"Shut up and just listen!" Janet continued, trying to keep a more civilized tone because she noticed the absolutely stunned faces of Hannah and Abby. Their little eyes were wide and locked on their grandma! Good thing Malcolm wasn't here, as he'd be screaming his fool head off right now.

Sam, she was equally shocked by Janet's outburst.

"Just listen…" she said, feeling the sting of her own tears. "George, you have to **_want_** to get better. I can't do it by myself with the drugs! This 'I want to die' attitude isn't helping. Are you even thinking about Hannah and Abby? And Sam, while I am truly horrified and sorry about what happened to you, you need to remember that George is sick and he needs your help too! If not for you, then at least for the girls, **_they_** are what that is important. They're our hope…that we haven't given up, and that we're hoping that one day, we'll be safe… and at peace… I wouldn't have had Malcolm if I given up on that…. Nor would I have agreed to have another baby if I had given up. "

Janet got up.

She couldn't stop the tears.

She wasn't feeling well, the chili didn't agree with the baby and her stomach was churning something fierce. Damn it, why had she listened to her unexpected craving for chili dogs?

And she **_missed_** Jacob and Selmak! The unexpected need to hold Malcolm overwhelmed her. She **_had_** to hold something of her husband.

And at the moment, she decided it was her turn to be selfish and didn't care what the hell George and Sam did! Janet had done all she could do…it was now up to them.

"Sam, your palm print has been added, you can leave here whenever you want, but I'm **_LEAVING_**!"

**

* * *

**

Hannah and Abby started crying the moment Janet left the room. Sam was quick to pick up one and to her surprise, George was there to pick up his other daughter

"She misses Jacob," Sam said, gently rocking Abby.

"Selmak, too," George said softly. "Easy, Hannah, Granny Janet is just tired."

"Granny Janet?" Samantha retorted. "The mood she's in, I don't think she'd like being called THAT."

George ignored her, instead he was gently rocking Hannah, and he was staring at his daughter as though he had never seen her before. With one trembling hand, George was stroking Hannah's blonde curls.

"Hey… my little dancing star…I've missed you and your sister so much…You probably don't even remember your old crazy father, but I've thought about you every moment that I've been here in my lonely little padded cell…" he assured his daughter.

* * *

Janet Fraiser stormed to her quarters and she threw open the door.

To her surprised concern, Malcolm and his sitter were not in the living room. Everything was neatly picked up in the living room… **_too neat_**. Swallowing quickly, she tried not to panic. With George incapacitated, and Jake and Selmak away at war, the time was ripe for a coup d'état. Who? **_Chekov_**? Chekov of the reserved mien…

Not Malcolm. Not Malcolm, she thought. If you harmed him, I kill you, she swore. If one curl is damaged, Chekov, you will pay in spades! Instinctively, she slid the ribbon device on her left hand.

To her surprise, Jake and Selmak were in Malcolm's large room, sitting on the day bed with their feet on the hamper. Malcolm was sleeping in his crib and it was apparent that Selmak had put Malcolm to bed as Selmak always made sure the pillow and blankets were placed just so, even though Malcolm was destined to mess them up.

"Malcolm's sleeping," he assured his wife. "I dismissed the help, and I rocked him to sleep, so we can have some 'us' time."

He paused and gave her a rather worried look.

"While I know that I've been away longer than I promised, do you **_really _**think you need to use the ribbon device on Selmak and me?"

His gentle sarcasm did nothing to improve her mood.

"Just, get off your ass and give me a hug and a kiss," Janet swallowed hard, keeping her tears of relief at bay so as not to upset him.

Jake stood up, swept her into his arms and then she kissed him.

"Wow! Someone really missed us!" Jake exclaimed breathlessly when they broke apart. "Sel's flippers curled and I got a jolt down my backbone!"

"Jake, shut up!"

"Ye..."

Janet silenced him with another deeply passionate kiss on his lips. And she was still kissing him when she realized that he was carrying her toward their bedroom.

* * *

Regretfully, George put his daughter down. Then he carefully touched Abby, stroking her hair for a brief moment before looking at Samantha.

"It's time for me to go back to my padded cell," he slurred. "Whatever she gave me is knocking me on my ass. You'll have to open the door, put your hand on the ID pad and state that you're putting me back into my cell."

He sighed, a long exhale that seemed to fill the room with his sorrow and grief.

"I am sorry," George said quietly. "I truly am."

* * *

Samantha shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head, trying to appear blasé. Deliberately, she crossed her arms in front of herself, trying not to let George see that she was shaking.

The man in the room with her just sounds like the General, but he truly isn't, she reminded herself.

"Mere words will never fix what I did," George admitted. "God knows I tried to think of what to say to you to convince you that I am truly remorseful. Words won't ever fix the damage, but I've decided that there is one way to let you know how regretful I am."

"There's no way you possibly can make this all better," Samantha stated quietly.

"If I help you get back to your time… you could probably prevent this from happening. You're damn smart, Samantha, far smarter than I am. If there's anyone that could fix this, it would be you." George declared. "If you could spend your free time on getting home, you would. You could get home again."

"Yes, that sounds like an absolutely stellar idea," Samantha admitted in a very sardonic tone. "Feel free to tell Dad and Selmak that I'm working on a way home. I'll **_deny_** it."

"And they won't believe the crazy guy in Cell block H," George said with a slight smirk. "You're trained to resist capture. Now that you've been… _captured_… you're spending all your energy on evading and escaping by any means, including pushing me into a nervous breakdown. Your attempt wasn't completely successful as I'm still here, Samantha."

"I didn't push you," Samantha retorted. "You had your breakdown with no help from me."

"Say it enough times, Samantha, you might even begin to believe it," George retorted, his voice dripping in dry amusement.

Samantha sat down on the couch, wanting a way to escape. George was too perceptive by far, and she knew that he was witnessing her uncontrollable trembling. Damn it, it was **_HAMMOND_** talking to her. He had **_always_** seen through all of O'Neill's shenanigans.

He moved, so he was standing in front of her, and she bit her lip, trying to appear calm, accepting that she failed even while she was putting her hand on the zat she had hidden in a deep pocket. One step closer and she'd use it on him three times in rapid succession.

"Easy, girl. You don't need to zat me now," George stated quietly. "Though I know I deserve it."

"Zat? I don't know about what… zat you're talking about," she lied. She looked at him in the eye and flushed when her voice cracked.

His visage was twisted in what might have been a smile.

"If I was still your CO, I'd be damn proud of the fact that you're still resisting. I'm just offering… a trade… to help you get home. Your father will be home soon, so you won't be able to work on your equations at home, not while he's home. Walt and Sly keep far too good an eye on you for you to spend any time on your calculations in the lab…"

"What are you offering?" Samantha asked.

"You come and visit me a couple hours a day like the good, dutiful wife you are. You bring the girls and you bring Austin. Inside here, you can work on your equations, and I'll watch the girls. In time, if and when I'm ever taken off the "Menace to Society List" and put back on the "Sane" List…, you, me, the girls and that damn dog will move into our own place. Then you can work as much you want on it, as long as you're home."

Dear God, what was George truly offering? The chance to work on her calculations to get home again was too damn good to be true, which meant that there must be something in it for him. But what? Did he expect her to 'scratch his itch' after what he had done to her?

For a moment, she remembered George's weight on top of her slight frame, his large hand pulling her hair hard even while he raved and gibbered insanely about her supposed betrayal. His closed fist… raised… as if to strike her…

She shook her head, trying not to remember, but failing.

"What do you get out of it?" Samantha questioned. "Besides out of here? Sex? You have the urge to beat me up a few more times, George? Didn't I scream loud enough for you last time? Maybe you want to break a few more ribs?"

"No, I won't touch you, and I'll swear that on Hannah and Abby…." George paused and sighed slowly. "I just want to see the girls, Samantha. I hurt and desecrated everything I ever loved… except for them…"

"Then that's a very good reason why I shouldn't let you near them," Samantha stated quietly. "Your track record is less than stellar."

She waited for his reaction to that simple truth. Would he yell? Would he attempt to hit her again? She was playing with fire… and whatever reaction she was dreading, she wasn't expecting George to exhale again slowly, bite his lip, and nod his head in tired agreement.

"You're right," George admitted in a defeated tone. "Had been thinking you could put me into a Collar to ensure my good behavior. Have it encoded just to you, so you could kill me anytime you wanted with just a word."

Christ! He was offering to wear a Choke Collar? The Choke Collars were nasty pieces of alien technology. It was impossible for the wearer to remove those thin silver collars as any attempts at unauthorized removal caused the Choke Collar to activate, causing instantaneous death. She had seen a few people wearing them around New Earth, as the stigma was akin to wearing the scarlet letter A for anarchist, as they were used only for people who had attempted to rebel against System Lord Selmak. If you were collared rather than being killed, it meant that for whatever reason, Selmak had decided that you were capable of being rehabilitated.

But she had never heard of anyone getting their collar removed.

Well anyone **_alive_** that is.

"I could do that anytime I wanted, George," Samantha stated.

_**Don't ever show your fear to the monster. **_

George nodded his head and sighed.

"That you could, that you could. Question, I've got some Jazz CDs that I used to listen to… think you could give Janet a couple so I could listen to them? There's not much to do in that room, except think and pace."

She nodded her head in agreement, and then George motioned toward the door.

"Need to get back in my cage," he slurred. "Awful tired."

* * *

After she had locked George into his cell, Samantha sat in the visiting area for a bit. She wanted the chance to think before she returned back to her jail cell. Janet might be a friendly warden, but she was still a jailer who kept both dark eyes on her favorite prisoner.

"If I kept the zat ready… I could work on getting home here… I can't work on it when Janet's around…" Samantha thought out loud. "She's always talking to me, trying to see how I feel about what happened…"

"I could get home…" Samantha whispered. "Take the girls with me…prevent this from happening…"

"What do I tell George when I get home? SG1's **_dead_** and oh by the way, I'm having your baby, George…in a few months, so just ignore me when I'm out to here, waddling throughout the SGC," she whispered, trying not to laugh, as she knew that she'd never stop laughing after she started. "Don't worry, I won't ask for child support or joint custody… just stay away from me, Hammond… that's all I'll want…"

She laughed then; a sharp brittle sound and the threatened tears began to fall.

"But you won't leave me alone, George… You'll keep after me… and I'll deny everything… Then one day you'll figure out the truth… and … you'll know who fathered my children…"

_George, you'll look at me with those compassionate blue eyes of yours; your broad shoulders will be slumped, and you'll ask me…in a halting voice… about the children… all the while wondering… if I bedded you willingly… and you'll want to ask me… you'll have to ask me… but you'll be too ashamed…_

_But you'll get your courage up… and then… when you ask me… what do I say?_

_Oh God, what do I say? _

_I slept with you willingly on that first night. I asked you to be gentle with me, and you tried so hard. The same hands that killed Bra'tac, you used to caress me. You told me that I was beautiful… you told me that I was your angel of sanity…you vowed on what remained of your honor not to hurt me. But your fathomless pain and your self-loathing overwhelmed you… and in the end, it destroyed you… just as it damaged me._

_You are a victim of Kinsey, just as assuredly your granddaughters had been… _

_Just as I am a victim of Kinsey._

* * *

Selmak was purring in his head, basking in the afterglow. His wife, who despite being so tiny, managed to take up most of the bed, much like a cat, was sleeping next to him. He kissed the top of her head, and covered her gently with the blankets. Dressing quietly in the stillness of the night, he managed to leave the bedroom without waking her. Then he checked on Malcolm, who was sleeping quietly.

"Thanks for not interrupting your Mom and Dad's personal time," Jake teased.

"And symbiote…" Selmak leered in his mind.

He then checked on Samantha, as no matter how old you and your children were, parental instincts never died. She was sleeping, as were the girls.

His loved ones checked on, Jacob then exited his quarters. Several Super Soldiers snapped to attention.

"Follow me," Jacob instructed. "Time to visit an old friend."

* * *

George was sitting in his cell, his sixth sense nudging him and preventing him from sleeping. He wasn't surprised when someone walked into the room.

What surprised him was who it was.

**_Jacob Carter and Selmak_**.

"Wait outside," Jake ordered the Super Soldiers.

After the mindless drones had left the room, Jake faced him and gave George a slight calculating smile.

"George…" Jake said slowly. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you… and it better be a damn good one…"


	11. Chapter 11

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 11

Author: Selmak

Introduction: Jake Carter returns and he's not happy with George.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

Comments: For those that have stuck it out this far, I apologize for the delay in chapters. George is not being cooperative, loudly screaming, "I don't want to play anymore!" Seriously though, real life can be such a drag sometimes.

* * *

George was sitting in his cell, his sixth sense nudging him and preventing him from sleeping. Well perhaps, truthfully, it wasn't his sixth sense, but his inner Jiminy Cricket, who was screaming obscenities at him. Funny, when he had read Pinocchio to his granddaughters, nowhere did it say that Jiminy Cricket had a potty mouth. He couldn't remember a hell of a lot these days, but somehow that idea was stuck in his head. 

Nights like this he'd walk the night away, until he was physically exhausted enough to sleep. But not tonight, as George could feel in his bones, that something was gonna happen tonight. For good or for bad, tonight was important.

Therefore, he wasn't surprised when someone walked into the room.

What surprised him was… who it was…. Who they were….

**_Jacob Carter and Selmak_**.

When the Sam Hell did they get back?

"Wait outside," Jake roughly ordered the Super Soldiers.

After the mindless drones had left the room, Jake faced George and gave him a slight, calculating smile.

"George…" Jake said slowly. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you… and it better be a damn good one…"

* * *

There was nothing akin to friendship in the man that stood before him. 

No, that was **_untrue_**.

There was nothing resembling humanity in Jacob's dark eyes, instead there was a cold, emotionless void.

George would have welcomed **_fury_**, as it was a human emotion and yes, by all means, Jacob should be royally pissed with him. Instead, Jacob's icy eyes were dark and unfathomable as the still, cold depths of space.

"I'm waiting for an answer, George…" System Lord Jacob said in a very soft, extremely **_dangerous_** voice. "I trusted you with my daughter, George. I thought… you'd be good for her… and instead… you **_violated_** her…"

Jake spat that comment at George; at last expressing his rage over the harm that George had done to Jake's daughter. George said nothing, because he couldn't think of any reason why Jacob **_shouldn't_** kill him.

"I'm waiting for a response," Jacob reminded him. "Why _**shouldn't**_I kill you?"

"Because that would be the easy way out, Jacob," George stated quietly.

"**_Easy_**?" Jacob questioned softly. Jacob then barked a short, bitter laugh, before he rubbed the back of his head. "Easy? You better explain to me, why it's the **_easy_** way out, George."

"Yes," George answered. "If I were dead, I wouldn't have to **_remember_** what I did to her every single time I looked at her."

"So… I should spare your worthless life, George, just so you can feel **_guilty_**?" Jacob roared.

George tried to prepare himself for what would happen next, as he had witnessed Jake/Selmak's tempers numerous times, but when Selmak threw him against the wall with a casual gesture of a ribbon-device covered hand, he was still surprised by the amount of pain caused by the impact. He slid to the floor, clutching the right side of his chest, feeling the pieces of his busted ribs rub and grind against each other.

He welcomed the pain as his due, his long overdue punishment, but George's agonizing pain brought unexpected comprehension. Somehow, the pain from his shattered ribs brought him an unanticipated clarity of thought, and now one single, solitary thought was engraved in his mind.

**_He had to protect Samantha and Janet, plus the children, from Jacob and Selmak. _**

"George… what does it feel like to be hit by someone more powerful than you?" System Lord Jacob asked. "Should I feel **_guilty_**?"

"No…" George whispered. "I deserve this and more…"

"**_I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"_** Jacob screamed in a raw voice. "**_SAY IT LOUDER, GEORGE_**."

"I deserve this," George answered. "I do. I admit that."

"**_LOUDER_**!" roared Jacob. "By the time I'm done with you, I'm going to make you **_scream_**… and you'll beg for me to stop… just like my daughter did…Get on your **_goddamn_** feet! Take your punishment like a man, **_solider_**!"

Carefully, George got to his feet, and nodded his head in acknowledgement. The tables had turned and now a mentally shaky George Hammond was the **_sane_** one, and Jacob and Selmak were the ones sliding into the unplumbed, icy depths of insanity. As Jacob had held him together for years using a mixture of sheer desperation, spit, glue and a few yards of duct tape, now it was his turn to try to support Jacob and Selmak's tentative grips on their sanity.

After all, Jacob and he were bound together by a shared past, two old men who should have died a long time ago, two soldiers who had rained nuclear fire down upon the earth and all the billions upon billions of helpless inhabitants who simply had the misfortune of being unable to escape.

"Go ahead, Jacob, I'm on my feet…" he rumbled. "Do what you have to…"

George swayed unsteadily, trying his damndest not to collapse because if Jacob took enough of his anger on him, perhaps both Janet and Samantha… and the children… oh those sweet innocent children, whose only sin was their fathers were madmen, would be spared.

This time, Jake unleashed enough power to throw him even harder across the room, and George would have sworn that he had left a head-sized crater in the wall. He tried to stand, but quickly realized that his body wasn't responding to his commands, and instead his body was insisting on sliding down the wall. He tried standing, kept endeavoring in vain, until he fell over on his injured side.

He bit his lip hard to prevent himself from crying out, tasting the salty metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

"George… by the time I'm done with you, you will **_know_**…first hand, what my daughter experienced…" Jake stated in a very mild tone. "Fortunately…. You're **_not_** my type… so you don't have to experience… **_that_**… but I'll make sure that I'll do something just as humiliating… and just as painful…by the time I'm done with you, you'll be weeping just like she was."

The room was spinning… no… the world was spinning on its axis… spinning so fast that George couldn't stand… all he could do was hold onto the floor and prepare himself for the next blow.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Hammond?" Kinsey questioned softly.

George realized that he must have one **_hell_** of a head injury if he was hallucinating he was back in the SGC, using his bulk to block a knife-wielding Kinsey from both Kayla and Tess. No… **_no_**… that had never happened, he remembered.

Jake kicked him hard, shattering more ribs and then the System Lord, the madman who George **_knew_** to be his only friend left alive, yanked George by his ears onto his feet.

"What do you have to say, George?" Selmak asked.

"I deserve this… and so much, much more…" George gasped slowly.

"No... no… no…George," Selmak insisted in a patronizing voice. "You're supposed to be begging us to stop hurting you… **_Not_** egging us on…"

The blows landed again, first in his ribs, then his back, then whatever spot Jake could reach.

George uttered not a word, biting his lip to prevent himself from crying out. Accepting his punishment, he grew increasingly lightheaded until he saw Marie. She was radiant and she was wearing a flowing, white dress which trailed behind her. Her long hair was undone and she was smiling joyfully at him. She reached for him, one hand outstretched… offering him the peace that he craved, the sweet absolution of the grave…

Then the Angel of Death, for that was who it truly was, who just looked like his dear, sweet Marie, spoke to him…

**_Come with me, George…. Lay down your burdens and find whatever peace you can among your restless dead. _**

He had never gotten this close to the final exit in all his years of trying; something or some bond had always interfered, keeping his soul tethered too tightly to the land of the living. But now… now he had given up all hope of salvation… his final release… was within arm's grasp.

All he had to do was say, "**_Yes_**…"

It was then that George wept, for he had to refuse the sweet oblivion that he had craved for such a long time, and the easiest solution to all the problems he had created.

_**I can't go with you, Marie… **_

**_I have to protect the children…_**

_**I have to get Samantha home again…**_

_**

* * *

**_

Janet woke up slowly, and she tried to snuggle closer to Jacob. But he wasn't in bed with her and his side of the bed was rather cold, meaning that he hadn't been there for a while. Sighing in exasperation, she sat up, and she hissed in annoyance. She didn't see his clothes hanging over the back of his chair nor did she see his shoes.

"Damn it," she whispered. "You're home for the first time in months, and you can't sleep in? You owe me cuddle time, Carter!"

She grabbed her robe, dressed quickly and walked out to the living room. Samantha was sitting on the couch, absently stroking Austin's head which was in her lap. Judging from the sunlight pouring into the windows, it was mid-morning, if not later.

"Good morning," Janet said cheerfully. She poured some orange juice for herself and grabbed a bagel for breakfast before sitting down in a chair close to where Sam was sitting. "Did you eat?"

"Kinda queasy, so I only had a little snack. But you're in a great mood," Samantha teased.

"Did you see your father?" Janet questioned.

"No, is he home?" Samantha questioned quickly.

"Yes," the doctor giggled. "I guess that means we didn't make **_too_** much noise last night. I worried that I'd wake you up as I was having a religious experience… **_repeatedly_**…"

Samantha shook her head and grimaced playfully, "That's too much information for me. I don't want to know about you and my father having sex, Janet. I'll see about getting a new apartment so I don't cramp your style."

"No... No… I wouldn't think of it. So how did things go with you and George after I left?" Janet questioned. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone with him… but I was exhausted…"

"We talked…" Samantha stated quietly in a voice that said she didn't want to discuss it any further.

"Ok, honey… I won't pry, but if you want to talk, let me know," Janet reminded her.

* * *

Then the door to the suite opened and Jacob walked into the room. 

"If it isn't two of my favorite girls," he said happily while he entered the room.

He walked over to his wife, and he kissed her passionately before holding her at arms' length so he could inspect her. A smile appeared on his grim face when he looked at her, and his voice turned softer, "You look beautiful, Janet. You're **_glowing_**. I wish I hadn't been away for so long, but Dixon isn't that strong a second. We had some unforeseen problems…"

Jake sighed and shook his head. "The Kid's got to learn sooner or later. George and I aren't going to be around forever…**_hopefully_**."

"Where did you go, Jake?" Janet asked. "I woke up and you were gone."

"Had to see George," Jake admitted easily. "I know you've been giving me reports on him, but I wanted to see him up close and personal just to see how he's doing. Samantha…"

He held out his arms for her, and Samantha stood up, realizing that it was a silent request for a command performance by her, to act like the proud, dutiful daughter. Jake embraced his daughter and then kissed her on her cheek. Much to her obvious surprise, he hugged her tightly and then played with her hair, much like he had done when she was a small girl.

"I had a long conversation with George, Sammy," Jake said softly to his daughter. "He's truly repentant about what happened between you two. I know there's **_nothing_** he could ever do to wipe away what he did to you, but believe me when I tell you, he's **_very_** remorseful. He was in tears by the time we were done chatting, Sammy. So he does know what he did to you was very, very wrong…"

* * *

Janet's smile faded abruptly, but then was replaced by another mega-watt smile so bright that Samantha could have sworn that she was having a hallucination. 

"Jake, you and Selmak must be exhausted, why don't you go back to bed," Janet suggested in a soft bedroom voice. "Let me get my massage oils and I'll rub your neck for a bit. I know you and Selmak have been under a lot of stress with this campaign and you always carry your tension in your neck. Let me loosen up your neck muscles, Jake, so poor Selmak can wiggle a little in there…"

"You are **_so_** thoughtful," Selmak purred, as Selmak Jacob disengaged from their hug with Samantha.

"I'll be a few minutes, so why don't you take a long, hot bath first… and when you're done…" Janet suggested before giving Jacob and Selmak a sly wink.

Jacob laughed softly, and nodded his head. "Off to the showers, we go!"

Janet continued to smile until Jacob left the room, and then she turned to face Samantha. The good-natured look on Janet's face disappeared and was replaced by a very anxious expression.

"Sam, you have to go check on George… **_please_**…" Janet whispered. "I'll give you a healing device, there's a good chance you might need it. If there's a problem, talk to Brightman… she's the only one on the medical staff that I trust… please… go… now… Siler and Davis, you can also."

"What?" Samantha questioned. "I have no one to watch the girls…"

"Samantha… listen to me…" Janet whispered in a very soft voice. "Your father has blood on his hands… He's acting… **_peculiar_**… for your father… I'm worried that he might have killed George… during their… **_conversation_**… so…**_please_**… go check on George…I'll watch the girls…"

* * *

Samantha left the suite and she tried, unsuccessfully as always, to ignore the black clad Super Soldiers that were her constant companion and guards. She was even less victorious in blocking the dark thoughts that percolated in her mind. 

**_Why do I have to check on him? It's nice to know that my Crazy Dad wanted to defend his little girl. I mean, it's nice to know that they've stopped harping about how sick poor George is… because… being unwell… is no excuse for what he inflicted on me…_**

"Stay here," Samantha ordered her sept of guards before entering the visiting room.

The room was spotlessly tidy as though someone had cleaned it after their meeting…visitation… with George.

**_I could say that he's fine… and just return back to where my System Lord Father is fucking my best friend. I could just stay in this room for a bit and then return. _**

**_How long before Dad and Selmak are exhausted?_**

A brief shadow of a memory from Jolinar surfaced, and the fragment gave her a little too much information on Martesh and Lantesh's joint stamina.

**_He's been gone six… seven weeks… could be all afternoon. Well, I've got my zat; I've got a healing device, what else could a girl need to face her rapist?_**

_**One can of hairspray so I could nail him in the eye with it!**_

Plus Samantha knew that she truly needed a quick infusion of courage, as her stomach was roiling. Placing her shaking hand onto the ID pad, Samantha announced her arrival to George.

"Better be dressed," she thought darkly, "Else I'm zatting you. Don't expect a hello kiss either."

* * *

She entered George's cell and to her surprise, it was a mess. The couch was overturned, as were a few of the chairs and the tables. Well, they weren't overturned so much as their legs had been blasted away from where they had been secured to the floor. The formerly clean walls were stained with something…dark… and George wasn't there. 

Least, she didn't see him.

"George? I'm here to check up on you," Samantha called out, proud that her voice was steady. For good measure, she had her hand securely wrapped around the zat… just in case he tried to pounce on her for a little r&r.

She looked closer at the stain and decided to follow the drips that were on the floor. It took some time, and a lot of deep breaths to calm her shattered nerves as she was getting slightly panicky at being alone with George… but she found him.

George was lying facedown on the floor, close to his bed. From the mess, it appeared that he had crawled there, had even attempted to get into the bed, and hadn't been able to manage it. Instead, a very bloody and battered George had pulled the blanket off the bed, managed to drape it around his body somewhat, and he had been content to fall asleep right then and there.

"George?" Samantha questioned, as she carefully nudged him with her toe.

Samantha's less than eager prodding earned her a slight moan from George. She jabbed him again harder on her next attempt and George tried to lift himself off the floor, using his arms to support his upper body. He failed miserably, and he collapsed back onto the floor with a soft grunt of pain.

"Jacob?" George moaned. "Back… early…"

"No, it's not Jacob," Samantha stated quietly.

Her voice seemed to startle George as he moved his head somewhat to face her, allowing her to bear witness to what her father had done to him. His battered and bruised face was covered in dried blood. George had wept recently as the tears that had run down his face had mixed with the blood causing some of the blood to appear wet. His lips were split, his nose broken and his one good eye appeared to be swollen shut.

Somehow he managed to open his good eye, made a Herculean effort to raise his head off the floor, and then he looked in her direction. George appeared confused at what he thought he was seeing.

"Sam…an…tha? Why are you…Here? Small… matter…. Between Jake………. Me…" he whispered, before he closed his eye.

He quickly put his head back down on the floor, and moaned. Softly.

Samantha said not a word.

Inwardly, she was at war.

One part of her was laughing and dancing in glee that George had gotten in spades what he had done to her. The monster wasn't quite as fearsome as he had been now that he had been cut down to size.

_Repeatedly_.

Yet another part of her was horrified at the sheer savagery of the beating her father had delivered on George. His swollen and misshapen fingers looked nothing more than overstuffed sausages and his right forearm had acquired an additional elbow as his radius and ulna bones now bent in mid-shaft.

Samantha felt sick to her stomach and she turned away from George, not wanting to see him lying on the floor. For just a moment, she had hallucinated briefly that it was General Hammond who was wearing his dress blues, lying on the gate ramp, bloody, battered and broken rather than an injured George on the floor of George's padded cell.

**_God. I have to stop thinking of you as the man you once were, and accept the simple fact that particular George Hammond's dead_**.

"Still… there?" George questioned after a few minutes.

He had been required to repeat that question several times in order for his faint voice to be heard, and he coughed up blood after his exertion, slightly panting from his effort.

"Yes," she admitted in a very soft voice.

"Jake's back… in a few hours… better leave… fore he gets here…though… I'm sure… you want… to enjoy the sight…. For a little while…" The bloodied, barely animated corpse that was George Hammond attempted a laugh, and then grimaced in apparent pain before continuing. "Favor… **_please_**?"

"What do you want me to do, George?" Samantha responded carefully. "I may not be able to do it…"

"Talk to me…" He whispered. "… ad…miss…ion… for freak… show…."

"You want to **_chat_**?" She questioned in a disbelieving tone. "You don't want me to get a doctor?"

"Punishment…. Have to wait…until Jake re..turns… then Selmak will heal me…. to be sure… that I wait… as long as you did…" George inhaled quickly and bit his lip. "Talk about …the girls…**please**…"

Hammond grimaced again, his body tensing up noticeably while he bit back a scream, and then he panted for a bit. Then his body relaxed and he sighed in relief.

"Help to focus… on something….. besides the pain…"

"What do you want me to talk about?" Samantha asked, feeling very uneasy about the entire situation.

What if he was just pretending that he was hurt? Maybe he was intent on lulling her into a sense of complacency before he **attacked** her again?

Yet, dear God, she should do **_something_** for him. Even Prisoners of Wars weren't treated like this under the Geneva Convention, though no doubt the Geneva Convention had gone up in flames like the rest of Earth when George and her father had nuked Earth. She took out the hand-held diagnostic device… the Tok'Ra tricorder as Janet jokingly called it, and placed it next to him. It would take a few minutes to catalog all his injuries, but it appeared from the red cast to the display screen that George was in very bad shape.

"Baby you're…. carrying…" George flinched; barely muted his cry of pain and then panted again…"God damn spasms…hurt…"

Samantha moved away from George, and she sat down weakly on the overturned sofa. Protectively, she placed her hands over her belly, wanting to protect her daughter… somehow… from this insane nightmare she found herself in.

Her **_FATHER_** had done **_THAT_** to his best friend.

"Know if… Boy…Girl?" George questioned.

"She's a girl," Samantha told him.

"Name?"

"Emma… I've been calling her Emma…" Samantha explained.

"Lovely… name…." Then George muttered something and Samantha couldn't hear him.

"I can't hear you, George," Samantha called out to the still figure.

He swallowed a few times, before repeating himself. The effort to talk seemed to be exhausting him, as his form was growing still.

"Can… you love Emma… despite… a mon..ster…. for a daddy….," the bloody figure questioned. "Oh God… oh God… it hurts… it **_hurts_**…."

"Yes," Samantha stated easily. "I love our children, George."

George sighed softly, almost in appreciation, as though she had given him some sort of benediction and then he tried to speak to her again. He lacked the energy to do more than mouth a few words, and she waited for him to repeat himself. Finally, after he remained silent for too long, she prompted him.

"I can't hear you, George…"

Minutes passed, and she repeated her query several times. Then the tricorder chirped signifying the scan was completed and it made another more urgent sound, signifying a critical diagnosis. Samantha then stood up, and walked over to where George was lying. His mouth was moving and she sat down next to him.

"George… what are you saying?" Samantha questioned, even as she reached for the tricorder.

He didn't answer her, and she placed her hand on his face. His skin was pale, cool and clammy, and her heart lurched. Then she heard George whisper again. Leaning over him, she heard him murmur, "…not … gonna… get girls…and you … home… So sorry… dear…" He wet his lips before continuing softly, "about….every…thing…"

Then she looked at the tricorder and the display showed that George was dying as his spleen had ruptured.

* * *

Janet continued to rub and massage Jacob's tight neck. She had managed to cajole him into lying down on the floor and she was sitting next to him. His neck was a literal knot of tension and she concentrated on gentle, flowing strokes. Normally, Jake should have been relaxing into a deep sleep but today… today something seemed to be bothering him. 

"George was really apologetic about what he did to Sammy," Jake informed her unexpectedly. "You know… even though we know and accept that he was mentally ill when he hurt Sammy, George still is responsible for what happened between them."

"Yes," Janet agreed, as she continued stroking his neck with long, flowing caresses. "You're so tight, Jacob. Selmak must feel like she's encased in solid cement…"

Jake nodded and closed his eyes, allowing her to continue her ministrations.

After a few minutes, he spoke again, "I had to tell him how **_angry_** I was about what he did to Samantha…"

"Yes, of course you did…" Janet answered in a soothing voice, continuing to rub his neck.

"Couldn't do it while he recovering from the gunshot wound…" Jake explained in a soft voice, as though pleading for absolution. "These past few weeks… have been horrible. Dixon is a lousy second in command…I could have been home **_weeks_** ago if George had been there… All I could think was how angry I was with George. How it was his **_entire_** fault that I was away from **_my_** family… I obsessed about what he did to Sammy… and about all those people who died needlessly because Dixon couldn't handle being my second. I **_NEEDED_** George…. And he had to **_fucking_** crack up, Janet."

Janet continued kneading his neck, and then she asked a simple question, even though she knew the answer, and that she had sent her best friend into a situation for which she wasn't prepared. "Jake… is there something you want to tell me?"

Jake got up and pulled away from her. Janet caught a brief glimpse of immeasurable pain in his dark eyes before he turned away from her. He stood with his back to her, obviously ashamed from something he had done. His hands fidgeted in an obsessive manner at his sides.

Before he even started to speak, Janet felt like her stomach was doing flip flops and that she was about to hurl her eaten bagel onto the floor with a mighty heave. She forced the bile down and took a deep breath.

_**Oh God, Jake, what did you do?**_

"Tell me," she requested, fighting to keep her voice from quivering.

"Selmak and I… we…. I… we… might have… really hurt George…pretty badly just now… we used… a hand device on him… repeatedly…over and over…"

Jake turned around to face her. Janet almost gasped when she saw the madness in his eyes

"I couldn't stop…we couldn't stop! **_WE DIDN'T WANT TO STOP UNTIL HE FULLY COMPREHENDED WHAT HE HAD DONE!_** He needed to experience emotionally, physically and spiritually what he did to Samantha…"

Janet took an even deeper breath, closing her eyes to steady herself.

_**Oh, Christ, Jacob, you're cracking up. God help me!**_

"Help me up," she insisted. "I have to see him, Jacob. How badly do you think you and Selmak hurt him?"

Jake couldn't look at her when he admitted the awful truth.

"He was screaming and begging me to stop by the time I was done… just like I imagined Samantha had screamed for him to stop…"

Janet got to her own feet and went to him. He **_was_** losing it! She had to do something to bring him back. Only she didn't know what to do.

"Please don't…" Jake pleaded, pushing her arms away when she tried to give him a hug. "I don't deserve it! I'm no better than he is, in fact, I'm worse than he is! If I had let him die years ago, he never would have hurt Sammy!"

Janet was torn as she watched her husband slide down the wall covering his face so that she didn't see his tears. She knew she had to get to George but she couldn't leave Jacob or Selmak alone, especially not with the children.

"Oh God…I'm a monster…" he wept.

"Jake, come with me, please," she said, wrapping her arms around him in an attempt to pull him onto his feet. "Please, let me give you a sedative. You need to rest. You're not thinking clearly right now, you're so tired."

Jake laughed through his tears when he looked at her, "Don't worry I would kill myself before I ever lay a hand on you or the babies. But you know… George said that also… before he attacked Samantha…"

"Please, Jake…let me help you…there's still a chance I can save George!"

Jake nodded, getting to his feet. He seemed like he was in a trance as she led him to their bed. She knew he was talking with Selmak. Janet was wondering how far off the deep end Selmak had gone too, as she hurried to grab her black bag.

"Make sure you give us enough to keep us out a long time," Jake spoke softly then roughly pulled her into an embrace. "We **_DO_** love you and the babies…please remember that when we go totally insane."

Janet grabbed him by his face and ordered, "You will NOT go insane! Do you hear me Carter! You too Selmak! You owe it to Malcolm, to me…to Sam…and to George!"

Then she injected him with a few 100ccs of every sleeping drug she possessed, before calling Janal, her Jaffa nanny over to watch the children. Then after Janal agreed to babysit, Janet called Brightman, Siler and Davis, and instructed them to meet her at George's cell. Then she locked her husband into the bedroom and waited for Janal to arrive.

* * *

"George?" A woman's voice called softly. "**_GEORGE_**?" 

"Yes," he rumbled.

"George! Open your eyes," the woman requested.

"Don't wanna…" George good-humoredly teased.

"Open **_them_**!" The authoritative voice insisted.

"Very well," George said.

He opened his eyes and for a moment, he was startled when saw Marie smiling at him. Why did he think that he wasn't supposed to be **_here_**? Why did he think that the woman's voice that was calling his name so intently belonged to someone else? He put those pressing questions to the back of his mind, and smiled up at his wife. To hell with those perplexing questions and that strange nagging feeling that something was seriously amiss, he was home, with his wife.

Damn it, this was as close to heaven as he wanted to get for a long while, sitting under a tree, enjoying the rare cool breeze on a hot Texas afternoon, his head resting in his wife's lap. The only way it could be better was if he could cajole Marie into making love. She was as frisky as a wildcat, but she didn't like making love in the great outdoors. He started caressing her leg, his fingers gently stroking that oh so sensitive area just behind her knee.

"George!" Marie protested with a slight purr, while he continued stroking her leg.

Oh, it was going to be a lovely afternoon indeed… after all, Marjorie was a year old already, and he really needed to give her a brother or sister, or at least start one, before he got shipped out again.

Marie's gentle hands rubbed the top of his head.

"Getting a little threadbare," Marie teased, before she planted a kiss on top of his head. "Plus you wear it so short…"

The length of his hair and his looming loss of what little still remained to him was a familiar, shaggy dog story between the two of them.

"**_GEORGE!" _** A female voice called his name loudly.

"Did you hear that?" George questioned Marie, as he regretfully sat up.

"What?" Marie questioned.

"I keep hearing a lady call my name…" George admitted. "Or ladies… as I think they're two different voices."

"A lady? **_LADIES_**!" Marie questioned in mock annoyance. For good measure, she gave him a well-deserved thwack on the top of his dome, as no self-respecting, God-Fearing Texas Gentleman should be hearing another lady's voice while lying next to his wife, and he certainly shouldn't be hearing two!

**_GEORGE!_** The voice seemed familiar, and he shook his head, not wanting to deal with unpleasant memories. Perhaps it was someone he had met in 'Nam. A nurse? No… that voice belonged to a **_doctor_**?

"There it is again," he said. "Now, don't get all green-eyed on me, I have no idea who they are."

"George…" Marie's voice was unexpectedly intense, and she put her hands on his face. "Listen to me… It's important. Don't listen to those voices… ok?"

Marie then kissed George passionately, and then when they finally had to gasp for air, Marie's hazel eyes were full of tears.

"Don't cry, Marie, I swear, I'll make it home safe," George promised.

"No… it's not that, George. It's those voices. Don't listen to them, George. For now, it's just us," Marie insisted before she started kissing him again.

* * *

"He's shocky," Janet stated to Samantha. "Sam, we need to tank him, he's bleeding out too fast for me to get an OR team together. GEORGE! **_GEORGE_**!" 

George didn't respond to the repeated calling of his name, so Janet ripped his shirt open, and gave him a rather aggressive mid-sternum knuckle rub which earned her a slight moan.

"Responsive to pain, at least," Janet whispered, even as she was snapping orders to her first response team of Siler and Davis. "**_GEORGE_**!"

"You have to **_tank_** him?" Samantha asked, understandably less than thrilled with that idea as she was still dealing with the ramifications of George's last tanking.

"He's too far gone for the healing device, all it can do is keep him alive, not heal him. Oh God, Jake," Janet whispered, not wanting the others to overhear the awful truth. "You nearly killed him."

Then Janet looked at Samantha and told her the bitter truth, "The only way I can save George is by tanking him. You're his wife, so you have to give me permission."

Samantha felt like screaming. It was now **_her_** responsibility to decide if George lived or died?

"I don't know…" Samantha admitted. "The last time you tanked him… it wasn't a good thing…"

George seemed to rouse slightly at the discussion, and he mumbled, "No….**_no_**…. tank….Please…."

"Samantha?" Janet questioned. "What's your answer?"

Her father was insane. That was the **_only_** explanation for the sheer savagery of George's beating. If George died, her father would keep an eye on her, trying to be protective…overseeing her every move.

She'd **_never_** get home.

But if George was **_alive_**… she could get out of her father's apartment… she **_could_** get home…

"Tank him," Samantha stated firmly. "We don't want George to die…"

* * *

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_," George sang softly. 

His wife was lying in his arms, and he was stroking her long hair with a protective touch even while he serenaded her softly. The song was another old joke between the two of them, and Marie woke up long enough to kiss him on the cheek. Then she curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest.

"Shall I continue?" George questioned Marie tenderly, and he laughed when she sleepily nodded her head. "_You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away_"

He finished the first verse and then Marie put one finger gently over his lips to stop him.

"Listen, George… I only have a short time with you," Marie said. "And I got **_distracted_**… you naughty, naughty boy."

"Marie, what the Sam Hell are you talking about?" George questioned as he was quite confused, and that pleasant post-coital mood was shot to hell. "When I put that ring on your finger, I planned on the long haul, girl."

"Listen to me… George… it's very important… You need to listen to me…" Marie explained. "You have to go back."

"To 'Nam, I know, darling," George stated tenderly. "I'm not gonna desert. You knew that when you married me. I know it's so hard for you, being alone with a young baby, but this war ain't gonna last forever."

Marie shook her head, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Then she shook her head, and tried again, "You need to go back…George… You can't stay here with me."

"Back where?" George questioned, trying not to convey how annoyed he was with Marie's enigmatic conversation. It was difficult for her, living alone on Randolph Air Force base with only Marjorie for company while he was in 'Nam.

Wait.

**_WAIT_**.

Lena had been two years old and her sister almost four years old when he had been stationed at Randolph. Why the hell did he think he was in Texas? Marie had been in California with Marjorie… Lena hadn't been born yet when he was in 'Nam…

Lena?

**_Lena_**?

Why did he think he had more than one daughter? He had two? No… **_Five_**? And grandkids? But by Marie's appearance, he'd guess that she was in her early twenties…

Why did he see an older gentleman, screaming obscenities and waving a bloody knife? Why did he see… little girls…. Blood strewn clothing… reaching for him, screaming that Grandpa had failed them.

"George… the voices… when they call for you, you need to answer…" Marie explained. "You have to go back, George. It's the only way you can save Jake and yourself. But it's going to be **_horrible_**, George…It really is… but it's the only way…No matter how bleak it gets, trust me, it's the only way…"

"What are you talking about, Marie?" George questioned. "I'm so damn bewildered… I think I need to go lie down. I feel… odd…"

"George… it's gonna be painful…but you **_have_** to do it. It's the only way to save your soul," Marie informed him. "Don't get discouraged… please… you have to fight… George… Fight hard."

* * *

Siler and Davis said not a word when they saw the bloodied George lying on the floor. Instead, they exchanged a quick glance even as they followed Janet's hurried instructions, and carefully placed George onto the waiting stretcher. Then the two men ran down to the waiting infirmary at a brisk pace, while Janet tried to keep up. 

Naturally they beat her to the infirmary. The two men were transferring George to the waiting sarcophagus while Dr. Brightman was intializing the program. Samantha was by the wall, with her arms wrapped around herself.

"He's saying something…" Sam stated quietly.

"Really?" Janet questioned.

"Sounds like Marie…" Sam explained. "His first wife."

* * *

The voices were more insistent, and he tried to ignore them, as he had sweet talked Marie into making love again and he was pleased to be lying in bed with her. Well, he was **_almost_** content, as somewhere in their lovemaking, the sheets and the blankets to the bed had gone astray, and he was a might chilly. 

Aha! There was the blanket on the floor, and he managed to snag it with his questing, outstretched hand. A little effort, and it was back on the bed where it belonged, and George was an extremely happy man once again.

Making love with Marie had cleared his thoughts, and re-centered his soul. Those strange female voices had stopped screaming his name, and he wasn't haunted by flashes of dying children that hadn't been born yet.

But Marie, naturally, wasn't having any of that. To be an Air Force wife, you needed independence, gumption and the ability to command your inferiors (e.g. husband) when they were slacking off in their assignments and Marie had those qualities in Spades.

"Go to them, George… you need to go to them," Marie insisted. "Follow them home, George."

"I don't understand, Marie. Aren't you happy that I'm home?" George questioned. "I've only got a few days on leave…"

"George… this is a dream…I'm not **_really_** here," explained his wife. "You've been hurt pretty bad, and you're dreaming this…"

George shook his head and gave her a saucy leer, "I've been having dreams, during those infrequent times you're letting me nap, girl. I can't be having dreams inside of a dream, Marie. They're such ugly dreams, Marie. Full of pain and grief…"

Naturally, as he was overly protective of Marie, he didn't tell her exactly what he had been dreaming. Snatches of scenes that included those dead kids while that old man laughed gleefully even while George mentally screamed, a battered, blond woman who had first fought against him, but who covered her head protectively with her hands while he punched and kicked her over and over again even as he screamed hate filled obscenities at her, a mushroom cloud of death that appeared upon the surface of the Earth and then another… and then another… and a coffin that **_hummed_**.

For a moment, when he had closed his eyes, he had felt as if unknown hands were placing him into that humming coffin. The lid was closing on him even as the blond woman who he had assaulted looked down at him with hate-filled eyes and bitterly whispered, "_I ought to let you die, George. I really should, as you don't deserve to live_."

Marie kissed him then and she stroked his face.

"Jacob's in trouble," Marie informed him. "You have to help Jacob, so when the voices call for you… go to them…"

"I don't understand, Marie," George protested.

"If you trust me, George, you'll go to the voices. Don't stay here with me," Marie insisted. "Promise me…please…"

"I will, dear…," he agreed. "Though you are making absolutely no sense to me."

His answer pleased Marie, and she cuddled close to him. He began stroking her hair even while he hummed, "You are My Sunshine."

* * *

Walter and Sly left the treatment room, leaving the doctors to their chores. The two men remained silent for a bit, and then Siler sighed. They were still inside of the infirmary, possibly the most bug-proof area of the entire New Earth compound outside of a few select areas, so they could talk freely. 

"Fuck me," Siler cursed even while Walter nodded his head in agreement with that sentiment.

"Only **_one_** person could have done that," Walt stated. "Or two really."

"Looks like I won't be giving Jacob-Selmak their message from Chekov," Siler said. "If only his messenger had gotten to me a few hours sooner."

"Chekov has to be careful with Weir-do," Walt reminded him carefully. "He sent it when he could. Give it to Janet?"

"Yes, Janet will have to do. Samantha's not in a condition to do much, she barely spoke two words just now," Siler reminded Walt. "Hopefully, Janet can pull it together or else everything will go to hell."

"You mean it hasn't already?" Walt joked half-heartedly. "OK, let's get cleaned up and then let's speak to both of them."

When Janet and Samantha left the treatment room, they were greeted by Walter Harriman and Sly Siler.

"Thank you for the help today," Janet said.

Sam repeated Janet's thanks in a decidedly unappreciative tone, but Walt forgave her ambivalence as her mixed feelings toward George were understandable. A very uneasy Walter looked at Sly, and Sly returned the look and then nodded his head. Then Janet looked at Sam, who shrugged her shoulders to admit her confusion about what the two men were doing.

"Janet… Samantha… Sly and I want to speak to you about a serious matter," Walter explained slowly. "I hope that you two will understand that Sly and I have known about the current situation for a while, and we've not spoken about it to anyone. Not even to our wives."

"Only to each other, and that was once," Sly inserted.

"Go ahead," Janet said calmly. "Let's hear it."

"We know that the General… had a breakdown… after… an incident… with Samantha…" Walter stated quietly. "You have been covering up his disappearance for the last two months as the fact that after the last… assassination attempt…"

Walter used his hands to put quotes around assassination attempt.

"He desired to spend more time with his wife and children," Sly stated.

"You're **_wrong_**," Janet insisted loudly.

"Ma'am, please… let us continue?" Walter requested softly. "There's only person that the General would ever allow to beat him up like that… and that's Jacob Carter, which means… that there's a strong possibility that Jacob Carter is…"

"_Unwell_…" Sly inserted as delicately as possible. "Ma'am, feel free to deny it, but we need to warn you that both Chekov and Weir will be insisting shortly that they speak with Jacob and the General."

"I'm afraid Jacob's calendar is full at the moment," Janet stated quickly. "He's been away for almost two months, and he will be spending the next several days with **_his family_**. Chekov and Weir will have to wait."

"Ma'am, please, we know the truth," Siler inserted. "We know that General Hammond, Selmak and Jacob Carter have been there from the beginning of Earth's destruction. We know they **_ALL_** have been under a tremendous amount of pressure to ensure New Earth's survival. We **_know_** they're good friends and what happens to one affects the other. I sincerely doubt that anyone else could have managed it better then the three of them under such circumstances. So, can we… **_please_**… drop the pretense? I know you wonder why you should trust us… but the two of us, we're loyal to the General."

Walt nodded his head in agreement with Siler's comment.

"So, I'm sure Jake will be **_delighted_** to know that you're loyal to George rather than to him," Janet snapped. "I would have thought better of you two."

"Ma'am, I'm loyal to the General because the General saved my life," Sly stated with a quiet dignity, which was marred only slightly by his haste in speaking his assurance, as Janet did not look at all pleased by what she was hearing. And the last thing they wanted to do was upset Jacob's queen...they needed her. "When the decision was made to nuke Earth, the General tried to save as many people as he could by sending them off world through the Stargate. My oldest daughter and my grandchild were able to be saved…"

Siler paused, and Samantha remembered that Sly once had two girls from his first marriage.

"I've worked for General Hammond for **_years_** now, ma'am," Walt reminded her. "My loyalty is and will **_always_** be foremost with him and I trust his judgments. General Hammond's loyalty is to Jacob, and so will ours. Sly and I were honored when the General asked us to guard his wife. As you are no doubt aware, ma'am, we have successfully protected her numerous times as the two of us are viewed as…"

Janet nodded her head even as Samantha turned toward Janet and whispered, "**_What?_**"

"Harmless middle aged men. The Super Soldiers are viewed as the ones responsible for preventing Samantha's assassination," Sly stated deprecatingly. "Meanwhile Walt and I are considered the lap dogs of the General, given a cushy assignment of assisting his wife in her lab merely because of the simple truth that Samantha wouldn't look twice at us. People talk very freely to us. On occasion, we're given messages to slip to him from his operatives that don't want to be seen speaking directly to the General."

"I'm going to ask you again, why should I trust you?" Janet repeated calmly though her eyes were furious. "You stated to me that you're **_not_** loyal to my husband. If George decided to go his own way, you'd follow him."

"Ma'am, I didn't say that, but our first loyalty is to the General. We are grateful for what your husband has done trying to keep the remnants of Earth's population safe. As for following the General if he splits from Jacob, the odds of General Hammond and Jacob splitting apart after **_all_** they've been through together are rather poor. We've been working covertly for the General all these past years, being his eyes and ears among the general populace. Like I explained, we're viewed as harmless," Walter insisted intently.

"And bluntly speaking, there isn't anyone else to trust," Sly said. "The wolves are circling, ma'am, and they're perfectly willing to tear your throats out. Dixon had a taste of command, and he decided that he liked it. Watch out for Weir, Dixon and John Sheppard. Chekov sent that message to the General this morning. Chekov believes that Weir is attempting to lead a rebellion against your husbands and that the Jaffa are planning on walking out of our alliance."

"Ma'am, it is **_imperative_** that you get the General back on his feet," Walter advised. "Sane or not, he'll be able to think circles around Dixon and Weir."

"If Jacob's having… difficulties, General Hammond is the only person that can keep you and your family safe. The old guard is still loyal to him," Sly insisted. "We know… that he's not the man he once was… but nobody… nobody…in this camp can truly look themselves in the mirror and claim that they haven't done…. Things… that they wished they hadn't…. just to survive."

"God knows I can't," Walt whispered softly.

"Nor can I," Siler agreed. "And God knows, I wish I could."

* * *

_You Are My Sunshine  
My only sunshine.  
You make me happy  
When skies are grey.  
You'll never know, dear,  
How much I love you.   
Please don't take my sunshine away _

He must have fallen asleep, George thought. His eyes were closed, but he was still humming that damn song.

"Marie?" George called.

Odd, he didn't smell her perfume, and he seemed to be alone in the bed. He stretched then, and his eye opened when his hand hit something overhead. There was a ceiling, mere inches from his nose, and there were walls on either side of him.

Memories came rushing back, as he realized that once again he had been tanked.

Re-animated.

And brought back into the game.

No, God, no.

Why wouldn't they **_just_** let him die already? When the hell would Jacob Carter finally accept the simple truth that there was **_no_** way in hell George could ever make amends for the evil that he had done in this lifetime?

He was crying, he knew it. It was all he could do, while waiting, fearing for that moment when the lid of the sarcophagus was removed, and he would be ordered to continue fighting that hopeless, non-winnable war.

Why wouldn't that damn Jacob just let him die, he thought.

Please.

_**PLEASE.**_

_The other nite, dear,  
As I lay sleeping  
I dreamed I held you in my arms.  
When I awoke, dear,  
I was mistaken  
And I hung my head and cried._


	12. Chapter 12

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 12

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: M – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction. Dark Fic.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

For those few of you sticking with this story, Sel would like to apologize for the wait between chapters. I'm afraid that George went into his room and refused to come out and play with the rest of the characters.

We continue with Janet and Samantha being warned of the insurrection planned by Weir and Shepherd.

* * *

Samantha was exhausted, and she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Her father was cracking up; George was so crazy that he had straitjackets in assorted paisley prints and colors, and in leather, denim and canvas, Selmak was brilliantly bonkers, and Walter and Siler were trying to convince her that she should expend enough energy to actually **_CARE_** that someone wanted to overthrow the government. 

More power to them, she felt like cheering, but she sighed.

She had to protect her children, and being married and **_pregnant_** by George foretold that the insurrectionists would be after her.

For a moment, she had a brief flash of compassion for George, as she could imagine all too well how the daily trails and tribulations of new Earth had continued to mount until finally a brittle George had cracked. You added heat and pressure to carbon to turn it into a diamond, but the death of his children and grandchildren had been the fatal flaw, an emotional weakness, that had become a spiritual crack that had spread and fragmented the sturdy and resolute man she had once known.

**_Emma, Emma, why can't I hate him? Why do I pity him so?_**

"How many attempts?" Samantha questioned wearily.

"A dozen or so," Walt admitted. "Only three got beyond the planning stage. There are normally at least three sets of guards on you, Janet and the kids at all times. The only time there are fewer guards watching you is when you're in the apartment."

"**_Three_**?" Janet questioned. "Jacob never told me that. In fact, I'd damn sure he'd tell me if our son was at risk."

"He simply doesn't know," Walt informed her. "The General thought Jacob would disagree with his risk assessment, and he wanted to make sure nothing happened to you two and the children."

"You trust Chekov?" Samantha questioned. "I don't really know him."

"The General did," Siler answered quickly. "There was some sort of accord between the General, Jacob-Selmak and Chekov."

Siler spat something in Russian quickly, and grimacing, he repeated it slowly.

"The four of them always greet each other with that saying, I have **_no_** idea what it means," Siler confessed.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Samantha decided quickly. Her nerves were shot and she had a killer headache. "I want to go back to my quarters. Janet, if Chekov and the rest want a meeting, we'll blow them off for a bit. I'm too weary to deal with this right now."

And so it was agreed, and Samantha Carter, the defacto head of the government of New Earth went to her shared quarters with Janet. There was some sort of commotion involving her father, but Samantha didn't care, as she just went straight to bed once she reached their quarters. Since the incident with George, she had dealt with her reality by either detaching herself from it, in which she was an emotionless observer or just by blatantly ignoring it.

Let Janet handle her father, after all she had married him.

Tonight, she ignored everything and tried to sleep, even though George Hammond kept haunting her sleep.

* * *

Janet Fraiser had returned to her quarters, where she realized that she was completely on her own regarding Jake's sanity. Once Samantha and she had been safe and secure in their apartment, and their babysitter had been dismissed, Janet had tried to talk to Samantha, wanting to connect with her close friend, desiring nothing more than to reestablish that strong rapport that once existed between the two of them, but Samantha had shut down completely on her. 

Dear God, she was completely alone, and she had no one to trust.

George might trust Siler, Davis and Chekov but could she honestly even think of trusting **_GEORGE?_**

Once maybe, but not now.

Samantha had already emotionally zoned out to parts unknown and Janet wanted nothing more than to sit down on the couch and weep until all her tears had been shed. But alas, her strong belief in the Hippocratic oath required her to check in on Jacob and Selmak. For a moment, she couldn't see in the dark room, and her eyes couldn't focus on them. Her heart started beating faster, wondering if Jacob and Selmak had escaped, where they might have gone and if they had taken Malcolm.

Before she moved to go check on her son, a shadow in the far corner of the room stirred. Janet slowly turned the lights on, allowing the room to be dimly lit.

A long sigh of relief escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Jacob was sitting in the corner of the room, huddled underneath a blanket, an obvious and rather pitiful attempt at hiding from his monsters. She wasn't sure if her husband was awake or not but Janet could see from his profile that his eyes were closed. From the dosage of the sedative she had given to Jacob and Selmak they should have still been sleeping. Worried, as a doctor and a wife, Janet quietly crossed the room and knelt down beside her husband.

"Jacob?" she questioned softly.

He didn't respond but he turned his face more towards the corner, away from her.

"Look at me, Carter," she insisted.

Jacob turned to face her, and the bright, shining glow of his eyes plainly announced who was in charge of the body. Janet's heart sank to her toes when Selmak spoke aloud. After Jacob's emotional state when she had left him, the fact that Selmak was in charge wasn't a good sign, but perhaps she should be grateful that somebody was still running the Jake-Selmak show or was at least attempting.

"Is he dead?" Selmak questioned in a harsh tone, as though she and Jacob had screamed his voice raw.

"No," Janet whispered.

Selmak exhaled slowly, and Jacob's eyes closed.

"Should I be grateful or disappointed?" Selmak asked in a very exhausted voice.

Her husband and Selmak needed her emotional support and Janet needed reassuring. She didn't think it was a wise idea to answer such a loaded question, at least, not in their current state.

"How are you? How is Jacob?" Janet questioned, gently caressing the back of Jacob's neck.

"I'm completely depleted," Selmak admitted slowly.

"And Jacob?" she asked when Selmak fell silent.

"Jacob is as exhausted, as am I. I'm so very tired, Janet," Selmak whispered, moving into the comfort of Janet's arms. Janet was forced to sit down against so she could hold her husband's head against her chest. His eyes were so full of sorrow when Selmak continued. "I can't sleep as my dead haunt me. I see Martouf and Malek. Garshaw and Re'Nal…."

"I know you're tired, Selmak, but we have problems right now," Janet explained patiently. "You need to pull you two together, Selmak. Weir, Sheppard… Chekov…"

"I'm tired of fighting, it's all I've ever known for over two thousand years, except for those brief, stolen moments of happiness with you," the Tok'Ra explained in an emotionless voice, as Jacob's body curled into a fetal position. "I have fought…and I have been consumed by the fight…and now…I wish to rest."

The glow in Jacob's eyes faded, and Janet had to struggle to keep a hold on her husband as his body went limp and nearly slipped out of her grasp. She was exhausted herself but she held on tightly to the man and his symbiote that she loved and she begged one of them to respond. He remained unresponsive, his dark eyes focused on a distant horizon only he and Selmak could see.

"Don't do this to me," she pleaded as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Don't leave me in charge of this mess. Jacob…Selmak…I need you both, our children need you, please, please… please… Samantha can't handle this right now; she can't, as she's still recovering from what happened with George."

Jacob and Selmak failed to answer throughout the very long night even while Janet rocked his unresponsive body and prayed to a God she had long stopped believing in.

* * *

Gregor Chekov was uneasy.

Elizabeth Weir, David Dixon and John Sheppard had approached him about their plans of overthrowing the troika of Carter, Selmak and Hammond, claiming concern over the trio's increasingly erratic behavior. They had even mentioned that their strong suspicion that Paul Davis' death hadn't been due to the enemy but instead due to "friendly fire".

Gregor had prevented them from seeing his surprise that he had been sounded out by them, as he was one of the few non-American senior officers on New Earth. It was a fluke that he been at the SGC when Hammond had ordered Earth evacuated.

That was why he was among the living and his beautiful Anastasia of the bemused smile was not.

The rebels had cajoled and flattered him, telling him sweet-sounding lies about how the younger officers respected him and would follow him **_anywhere_**. By nature a rather introspective and extremely pragmatic soul, he had pondered his options, though he knew there wasn't any. No doubt if Weir knew that the solitary Russian was playing her for the fool, he'd end up with a bullet in his head, and if Jacob and George thought he had gone over to the dark side, he'd be dead also.

He had taken his chances, clandestinely warning Hammond through his agents of the possible uprising, but he hadn't gotten a response back. Official rumors had George taking a much needed break to enjoy his second chance at fatherhood with the much younger Samantha Carter (And Gregor still had to admit his surprise about **_THAT_** union), but persistent, darker rumors spoke of George's mental collapse and a suicide attempt.

The reasons for George's absence mattered not to him at first, but the continuing silence from Hammond was… **_unnerving_**.

George hadn't been seen either publicly or privately since Paul Davis' death, and… the insurrection was spreading like a cancer through the troops. The soldiers of New Earth were tired of fighting, yet failed to accept the fact that it was only a matter of time before (and not if) they were overrun by the Goa'uld. Only through System Lord Selmak's careful and meticulous plans had New Earth remained relatively unscathed.

Gregor had sent another covert message to George, hoping that the First Prime would understand why, when the insurrection, was revealed that Gregor Chekov was 'standing' on their side. He had gathered information on the insurrection, met with their leaders, and memorized their strategies.

A simple message; a few simple words written in Russia, a greeting that acknowledged what he owed Jacob, Selmak and George; a reminder of a time when he had attempted to slack his nightmares and his overwhelming grief and guilt over Anastasia's death in vodka's silent siren call, and a drying out helped by the copious applications of a hand device.

For a moment, he remembered lying on the floor of George's apartment, smelling of puke and sweat, at last wailing out his devastating grief for his dead wife. Then the two men had manhandled him into the shower and scrubbed him raw. When he had finally sobered up, and was able to think coherently, Gregor had questioned the troika on why they had intervened, instead of allowing him to drink himself to death.

He wasn't one of their personnel, not really, and he had brought his own misfortune upon himself because upon hearing the news that Earth was being evacuated, he had immediately gone out and bought every damn crate of vodka he could find and get back to the SGC within the allotted time.

True gold will shine through mud and slime, George had misquoted the old Russian proverb to him, or in your case, vodka, vomit and piss.

* * *

Samantha Carter went to her room, checked on the girls and then collapsed on her bed. For the last two months, she had wrapped herself into a comfortable cloak of detachment, where she went through her daily routine without fail, and she didn't let anything bother her. But not tonight. Tonight she couldn't sleep as she kept dreaming of a furious George who was beating her over and over again with his fists even while she begged him to stop. 

Damn it, she should **_never_** have visited George.

Why the hell had she agreed to it?

Why the **_HELL_** had she?

Why hadn't she left the room when the George Hammond personality had taken over the body? It was so much easier to pretend that the man that had hurt her wasn't George Hammond. The emotions she was repressing were coming to the forefront, and it had taken all her strength to hold them back during her brief conversation regarding Weir's insurrection. Siler had accidentally touched her and she had nearly freaked out then and there because she thought it had been George.

She didn't care, Weir could have the entire damn compound for all she cared, she just wanted to get home.

Samantha stretched out on her bed, making sure that the lights were on, and she prayed that she'd be able to sleep without dreaming.

* * *

In his quarters, Chekov put down **_War & Peace_** in the original Russian, and he exhaled. Drumming his fingers on the mahogany table for just a moment, he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. He was growing more and more uncertain and increasing desperate.

Five hours and **_no_** response from George.

Had George really cracked up? Now was **_not_** the time, Gregor cursed.

The last meeting with the rebels hadn't gone well. Slight nuances, sideways glances and the uneasy feeling that they were on to him had been prodding him. He decided to stand, stretch and pop his aching neck and while he did so, his eyes fell on a single, solitary bottle of vodka.

It was the last one left in all of New Earth, and he had kept it, not despite of, but because of his battle with the demon brew. It was a constant reminder of how far he had fallen, and how hard he had fought to regain his sobriety. He picked the bottle up, feeling the heavy weight of the bottle in his hand, hearing its tempting call to blessed oblivion and he came to a decision.

Mohammed **_had_** to go to the Mountain.

He didn't rate a security detail; well at least he didn't rate one that stood outside his door at all hours. Gregor could call for one, but his uneasy sixth sense was screaming that he had to **_escape_**, and run like the very hounds of hell were after him and that he had to do it RIGHT NOW. So he put on his flack jacket, strapped on a few weapons, and grabbed the bottle with one hand. He turned on his communicator and spoke a few words in Russian, hoping that the person on the other end knew what he was saying.

**_Siler. I'm coming to your apartment. Danger. _**

Before he left his apartment, he picked up his picture of Anastasia, and kissed it once.

**_I will join you soon, my beautiful, beautiful Kisa. _**

Then he exited his apartment at a fast walk, and he felt that someone was following him. It took every ounce of his rapidly diminishing courage to walk confidently, as though he didn't have a care in the world… no… universe…

When the attack came, it was almost ludicrous in its simplicity. One young Jaffa that was all he rated, and the boy was quickly subdued when Gregor broke the bottle of vodka across his neck, severing the Jaffa's jugular veins in a fluke accident that he could never probably repeat again. The Jaffa, barely more than a boy, with only the barest stubble on his face, dropped to his feet, and then Gregor started to run.

In one hand he clutched the neck of the shattered vodka bottle, and in the other, he had his communicator. He was screaming in Russian, instinctively screaming for help in his mother tongue, before he realized his all too likely fatal mistake. Very few people on New Earth spoke Russian, and most of them wouldn't understand his cursing.

"**_I need fucking help!" _** Gregor screamed in English. "**_They're after me and they're going to kill me!" _**

* * *

They had tanked him again. George had awoken in the tank, and when he realized where he was, he had wept a flood of bitter tears that did no good, and offered no solace to his damaged soul. 

**_AGAIN_**.

In spite of his well known DNR order – do**_ NOT_** Re-Tank, Jacob Carter had decided to throw him back into the tank, no doubt just so Jacob and Selmak could execute him over and over and **_over_** again. Normally, when he was awake that meant his tanking was done, and usually Janet Fraiser displaying a false cheeriness that stung his scarred soul like a scorpion sting, made sure the lid on the tank was popped open as **_soon_** as the tank stopped humming.

Normally he wasn't particularly claustrophobic, but after repeated tankings, he was becoming rather… **_uncomfortable_** in tight places, especially with the coffin lid a mere three inches from his face.

His claustrophobia was becoming less of a nuisance and moving towards a major ruckus as the minutes passed.

When the lid was finally opened, the person opening the lid was, from all appearances, expecting a rather complacent patient who would be dazed and confused from effects of the sarcophagus. After the first dozen or so tankings, a patient's body became accustomed to the effects of the sarcophagus and the patient was no longer quite as unaware of his surroundings after his tankings.

The man who opened the sarcophagus, who wasn't well-versed with George's short recovery time because he wasn't on Janet Frasier's medical team, and he also wasn't expecting his patient to be royally pissed due to his extended time in the sarcophagus. A rather complacent Aidan Ford also wasn't anticipating a very irate George Hammond to slam his palm **_hard_** into Aidan's face, viciously breaking his jaw, assorted teeth and his nose. While Aidan was still recovering, his intended victim wrapped one beefy arm around his assassin's neck.

George's blue eye met Carson Beckett's. The Scottish Doctor was holding a gun gingerly, as though he hadn't picked one up since Beckett took whatever docs attended instead of basic training. They were far too valuable to spent too much time out in the field jogging.

"You put that gun down…" George growled, "Or I'll snap his neck **_now_**."

Beckett's eyes were shifting nervously, and then there was a sound of a safety of a gun being released. Walt Davis held a pistol mere inches from the good doctor's ear. Unlike the good doctor, Walt knew how to use the gun and displayed no obvious reluctance to use it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Doc," Davis stated quietly. "It would be the very last thing you ever thought of doing."

Siler then popped his head into the room. He was followed quickly by Gregor Chekov. The stolid Russian quickly restrained Beckett's hands, before giving him a quick, solid blow to the face that left the younger man dazed and confused.

"My wife will take care of Ford," Siler offered. "We'll keep some Super Soldiers here, and put Beckett in the brig. Ford will join him there shortly. But first things first, General, we better get you a shirt. All hell is about to break loose, and your family's in a hell of a lot of jeopardy."

* * *

"I smell **_vodka_**," George growled in disapproval while he was leading two squads of Super Soldiers, along with the all too few people he knew that he could trust, back to his quarters. "Greg?" 

Senses were heightened after you were tanked, and he could sense the slight odor of vodka emanating from the stolid Russian combined with the sickening sweet mix of Chekov's increasing fear and copious sweat.

"No… no… I'm not drinking. I'm sober! I swear!" Gregor Chekov's voice rose in vain protest. "Gentlemen, please…. Assure the General that I **_wasn't_** drinking."

Siler nodded his head quickly and rapidly explained to George that Rak'nor's son Del'nor, had attacked Gregor and that Gregor had slit the boy's throat with a broken vodka bottle in an act of self-defense. George heard the almost… **_pleading_** … tone in Siler's voice as though he was trying to prevent Chekov's blood from being spilled… **_accidentally_**.

George gestured quickly, shutting Siler up in mid-ramble, and he stared into Siler's weary eyes. Damn it, when had Siler's hair gone **_white_**? When had Siler developed that shell-shocked demeanor of a survivor who resignedly placed one foot ahead of each, too stubborn to lie down and wait for his death, but knowing that his flight only delayed his inevitable destiny? When did Davis stop looking in his eyes?

**_My God, the only reason why Siler and Davis tolerate me is because they're afraid of everything getting worst. "Failure" is not the falling down, but it is the staying down, but oh Dear God, how I wish I could stay down, and give this burden to someone else. _**

_

* * *

She walked down the ramp, awkwardly, as both Abby and Hannah were clinging tightly to her neck, and they were resting on her noticeable bump. The girls were far too heavy for her to carry for long, so she gratefully allowed the first set of willing arms to hold them for her. It was Siler, and she shook her head, trying to stop him from asking the question. _

_She put her hand on the small of her back, hoping that if she applied just a little bit of pressure, the ache in her back would ease. Emma had lightened, was on the launch pad, and arriving any day now. Yet when her chance to escape from the hellish future had come, she had grabbed the girls and waddled as fast as she could to the ramp. _

_Hannah cooed in delight and loudly shrieked, "DADA!" as General Hammond walked into the GateRoom. The little girls started squirming to reach their daddy, and Siler hissed his frustration as he didn't want to drop the little girls. _

"_Major Carter?" George questioned. "Where's the rest of your team?"_

_Abby then decided to scream for her daddy also, causing George Hammond to look at the girls, look dubiously at her and her obvious distended belly that had been perfectly flat when she had left from the GateRoom a few minutes previously. _

_General Hammond added the sums quickly and he stepped toward his daughters, easily calming them down with a few soft words she couldn't hear. Then he pivoted towards her. He stopped when she instinctively danced away from him. His broad face appeared unconcerned, but she knew him far too well. His light blue eyes were unsure, and that all too familiar look of unfathomable, immeasurable pain was dawning in his eyes. _

_Had the disappearance of SG1 been the first incident that had destabilized his steadfast soul? Losing them, then watching his family killed…. And then unable to turn his eyes away while humanity burned… How many times had he self-flagellated himself, wondering what he should have done differently…what decisions he had made that had been repeated nightly in his traumatized soul. _

"_Contact Dr. Fraiser and advise her that Major Carter will be arriving shortly with two young girls. Sgt. Siler, please take the children down to see Doctor Fraiser."_

_Used to being obeyed automatically, George snapped that command quickly, and then, with a quick gesture, he ordered the security teams to leave the room. Sgt. Siler left with them, leaving her alone with General Hammond._

"_Major Carter?" He questioned, his deep voice was hesitant and uncertain. "Am I? Am I…. How? How is this possible? What happened?"_

_George couldn't finish his questions and she shook her head._

"_No… no… not at all! Never! I have to go see Janet," she insisted. _

"_Where's the rest of your team, Major?" Hammond questioned._

"_They're dead, Sir," she said it quickly before inhaling sharply due to a sharp, agonizing pain in her midsection. "No… no… not now, Emma… Not now…"_

_Emma came fast and furious, much like a bull running through the crazy, twisting turns in the streets of Pamplona. The medical team had barely prepped her before they were wheeling her in labor and delivery. Hammond was holding her hand or else she was grasping his, and he was there when the screaming, auburn haired, blue eyed Emma made her arrival._

_When Janet was handing her Emma, George reached over and carefully moved the blanket away from the baby's head. She heard his quick intake of breath when he saw the tell-tale auburn hair, and then he glanced at her. He was shaking his head in a futile, desperate denial._

_Uncontrollably, her fear of him flared, and she grabbed the baby from Janet. Ignoring Emma's protesting squawks; she pressed her daughter tightly against her chest. _

"_You stay away from her… You stay away from our..**my**… children, George… do you hear me? I won't let you near them…" she spat. "I won't let you hurt them. I won't let you…hurt them like you did me…like you killed SG1. You're never touching me again, you bastard. Do you hear me? You're a **MONSTER**."_

_Hammond stepped backwards, his confused eyes gazing first at her and then Janet. _

_She was still hissing at him when Janet slammed her IV port with ten ccs of Liquid Dreams._

"_I won't let you hurt them, do you hear me," she screeched, trying to fight off the looming darkness. "You bastard. I hate you. I **hate** you!"_

_She was still screaming when she drifted off to sleep._

_It must have been hours later when she woke. She was confused at first, her hands instinctively caressing her now flatter stomach. Gingerly, she sat up, her muscles protesting vainly against her moving too quickly. Janet was sitting in the corner of the darkened room and she was crying… no… sobbing the exhausted tears of bitter grief. _

_No… not Emma… not Emma!_

_She got out of bed uneasily, wishing that the symbiote she carried was a little more concerned about her host's aches and pains. Tottering over to Janet, she carefully sat down next to her. _

"_Janet?" she whispered. "Where's Emma? Where's my babies?"_

"_They're sleeping right now, we'll bring in to you," Janet's voice was shaky._

"_Janet…Why are you crying? Is there a problem with Emma? I want to see her… please," she pleaded._

"_Emma's perfectly healthy… It's General Hammond. He insisted on having a paternity test done on the girls. When he read the results, he gave them back to me, ordered me to burn the results and then he went into his office…" Janet stopped speaking and broke into another jag of crying. _

"_What?" She questioned, trying to hide her fear. She put her hands on Janet's shoulders and hesitantly began rubbing Janet's tight shoulders. "He knows… he knows the truth…?"_

"_He's dead, Sam," Janet blurted. "He locked his office door and then he put his service revolver in his mouth… We had to break the door down as we couldn't get into his office and when we finally managed to pry the door open… there was blood everywhere…He was still alive… barely… we tried to save him… but he was too far gone…He **died** on the table, Sam…"_

Samantha sat up, gasping for breath, and realized that she had a bad dream. Austin was lying next to her, and he moved closer to her before deciding to wash her face with his long, ticklish tongue. When he decided that her face was clean enough to his his particularly high standards, he settled down.

"Wonder if the girls are hungry," Samantha whispered.

They weren't, really, but she picked them up carefully and brought them back to bed with her, wanting to cuddle them for just a bit. Austin growled, and she tried to shush him.

"Don't wake your sisters, Austin," she teased.

Austin ignored her, and he stood up on the bed, growling towards the door.

Samantha's sixth sense flared and she grabbed a laundry basket, put a pillow and towels in it before placing the girls into the basket. Then she put the girls in the closet, making sure that the door wasn't closed completely. The girls safe from harm, she grabbed her ever present Zat, and she tried to pull Austin off the bed.

He ignored her, outweighed her when she wasn't pregnant, and he began barking energetically. It wasn't his happy bark, no, this bark was his protection mode bark, deep and threatening.

"Oh God," Samantha prayed. "What now? What now?"

* * *

When the attack on his family came, it was fast, it was chaotic and it was ugly. George went berserk, single-mindedly intent on saving his family from an all too familiar fate. He couldn't say how many he killed or if he only winged a bunch of them, but he noted detachedly that Jacob Carter had joined the battle and was systematically annihilating the rebel Jaffa. The blood ran red on the carpets and splattered on the walls and still the two desperate men fought on, concentrating only on the need to protect their loved ones.

When he snapped back to reality, he was in Samantha's bedroom, where he was greeted with Samantha pointing a zat at him. Austin was growling at the noises coming from the other room as he was in "protect" mode, but with a quick command in Goa'uld, Austin went into "guard" mode. But the dog immediately collapsed in front of the closet.

"Not one step closer," Samantha warned him in a shaky voice. Her hands were shaking so hard it was a wonder that she didn't drop the zat.

"Samantha?" He asked softly. "Are you alright?"

She put the Zat in firing position. In answer, George dropped his zat on the floor, and kicked it toward her. He held his hands extended to show that they were empty.

"Samantha, where are the girls?"

"What's going on?" Samantha asked. "Last thing I knew, you were in the tank. What the _**hell **_is going on?"

"Chekov warned you that Weir was plotting to overthrow the government. She made her move, as I was out of commission and your father and Selmak seemed… **_stressed_**. Where are the girls, Samantha? Did anybody hurt the girls?" George questioned.

"How do I know that you're telling the truth?" Samantha asked.

"Where are the girls, Samantha? Did anybody hurt them? Where are they?" George repeated his questions.

"I need to know that you're telling me the truth. One step closer and I'll zat you twice as I won't wait to find out what the story is. How can you prove to me that you didn't escape and come here for a little … more **_fun_**…," spat Samantha.

"No," George protested. "No. No… Samantha… No. Never again. I told you that. I promised you that. Never again. The rebels were coming here, to get at Janet, you and the babies. I couldn't let that happen… I swear to you that's the truth. Go out there… take a look…"

He heard a weak cry, it sounded like it was coming from the closet, so he ordered Austin to move, so he could open the door even as he ignored Samantha's threats to zat him. She couldn't risk zatting him, as she might hit the girls and at their age, only one zat could kill or permanently harm them.

The girls were in a laundry basket that was hidden in the back corner of the closet, and it was Hannah who was crying.

"Dear, dear sweet Hannah, don't cry," he whispered.

George pulled the basket out, and he carefully picked up Hannah. He began rocking her, ignoring Samantha's attempts to take their daughter from him. Nobody was going to take her from him, not ever, not again. He wasn't going back into that padded cell, no… no… he had to protect his family, and he couldn't protect them from there.

"Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. You're all wet, girl. Don't you worry though, Daddy's gonna change you lickedity split. Daddy's home, darling, and he's never gonna leave you again," he whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 13

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

We continue with the story after the failed insurrection planned by Weir and Shepherd.

* * *

Janet Fraiser rubbed her temples, wishing that she could sleep for a week. JakeSelmak were dosed to the gills, Samantha was physically and mentally a hair better shape than her father and the person who was snapping orders and running the show was of all people, George Hammond. 

They were already in a new residence that was still in the process of being completed, six no… seven bedrooms, four full baths and a couple half baths, and a large garden that was physically INSIDE the residence complete with a babbling brook and assorted fruit trees from Earth. Plus George had easily commandeered a dozen Super Soldiers to stand guard.

And while all the activity was going on, while the insurrectionists were being rounded up, George had fed his youngest daughter even while he strategized and planned "Jacob Carter's" response to the current situation. Samantha had tried to take Hannah from him, but George had refused to give their daughter to her. And now that Hannah was fed, he was still holding her while he talked to Siler and Davis.

"George… please let me have Hannah. You need to get your wound checked," pleaded a visibly unnerved Samantha.

She reached for Hannah, and George again refused to hand over his daughter.

"You need to lie down, Samantha," he retorted. "Janet, can you please have Samantha lie down? Sly, I'm sorry I took back this place. I know I promised you a nicer place, but it's the only place secure enough for my family. I'll them start building you a better place as soon as they're done here."

George then cooed to his daughter softly, "Right, Hannah? We're to make sure that Siler has a nicer place as we took his."

"Sir, it was too nice a place for me," Siler protested. "I'm perfectly happy where I am now."

"Nonsense, you've been loyal, Siler, and I **_remember_** your loyalty. We'll build you a nicer place, and then Walt; it'll be your turn. Now gentlemen, I need you to handle a few more things for me. You're also both getting security personnel, you too, Gregor. Plus your families are going to be watched," George informed them.

George continued instructing them and then he laughed. It was an oddly normal sound.

"Hannah, you're making a mess, girl. Give me that towel, Walt," George requested.

"Janet," Samantha whispered softly. "He needs to get his side looked at, and I want…. Hannah… away from him…. He's too dangerous… He's **_not_** safe…"'

Samantha was shaking, and Janet put her hands on her.

"Samantha… you need to lie down. I'll get Hannah from George… but right now you need to lie down."

"No," Samantha protested. "He's not safe… I can't let him hurt Hannah."

* * *

After Walter, Siler and Chekov left, George stretched carefully, so not to jar his side. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but Hannah was almost asleep and that was the important thing. He was singing to her softly, a tune he used to sing to Marjorie and Lena when they were younger. Back in the days when he could carry a tune… back when life was easy, and pain wasn't his constant companion 

"_There are places I'll remember, All my life though some have changed  
Some forever not for better, Some have gone and some remain  
All these places have their moments, With lovers and friends I still can recall  
Some are dead and some are living, In my life I've loved them all_

_But of all these friends and lovers, There is no one compares with you…"_

"George…" Samantha whispered as she put her hands on Hannah. "Let me have her…. Please… let me put her to bed. She's tired…. Let her sleep… please…"

"Let me put her to bed, you shouldn't be carrying her," George informed Samantha in a no-nonsense voice. "Janet, Samantha needs something to help her sleep. She looks like hell."

* * *

Samantha followed her husband as he walked down the hallway, carrying their daughter. She was near tears because she was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and from her overwhelming fear that the **_monster_** was holding her daughter. 

"Please…" she pleaded, her fear for Hannah overwhelming her concerns for herself. "Let me take her. Please… I'm begging you…"

George stopped and he made a motion as if he'd was going to hit her, so she instinctively flinched, but she remained where she was standing, rather than fleeing, because she had to protect her daughter. There was **_no one_** else who could protect her children.

"Samantha, I'm not going to hit you. I'm not. Look, you're exhausted, and you're shaking," he informed her softly. "I know… you don't trust me with her… but you're in no physical condition to carry her. She's sleeping, Samantha. I'll put her in the crib then… you and I need to talk."

"See…" George informed her, as he carefully showed her Hannah, who deeply asleep in his arms. "She's sleeping. Don't wake her, Samantha. Let me put her to bed, as she's too heavy for you to carry right now."

After she confirmed that Hannah was deeply asleep, George Hammond then quickly walked away from her, cradling his sleeping daughter protectively.

"There's nothing to say," Samantha wearily protested to herself. "What can you possibly say to me?"

Janet grabbed her arm gently, and she pushed her toward their bedroom. They were currently sharing a bedroom as Dad and Selmak were howling at the moon mad in the only other completed bedroom. That wasn't quite true, Samantha thought with a shaky laugh.

_**Dad and his headsnake were drugged to the gills and George Hammond was calling the shots. Somehow during last night, and carnage that had taken place, George Hammond had started snapping orders and everyone had instinctively obeyed him.**_

_**He's not going to go nicely back into his padded cell!**_

_**He won't do that. **_

_**He'll want his cuddle time with me and I'm pregnant… oh God, I've got to protect Emma!**_

"Come on, you need to sleep. Emma needs you to sleep," Janet insisted.

"Don't let George hurt me," Samantha pleaded. "Emma…"

* * *

Samantha was so exhausted, physically, mentally and spiritually, and he had rather stupidly reached out to touch her. A gentle, reassuring touch was all he had meant, but Samantha had tightened up and flinched as though she expected him to beat the hell out of her. He had glanced at Janet Fraiser and he had seen fear in Janet's eyes also. 

God, he had fallen so far from the man he once had been.

And the weight just got heavier and heavier.

Before putting Hannah to bed, he checked on Abby, who was sleeping soundly. She had gotten her blanket all askew, and so he carefully fixed it. He then put Hannah to bed without incident or loss of limb and for a moment, he hadn't wanted to let her go, because he was overwhelmed with a not so irrational fear that Samantha was gonna put him back into the cage again and he'd never see his daughters again.

_**It's not irrational, George, the safest thing for her would be to throw you into a deep, dark pit…**_

Then George decided it was long past time to face the music, and he staggered toward Samantha's bedroom. Janet had already left the bed room and he guessed that she was checking on Malcolm.

George found Samantha sitting on the edge of the bed, clad in a silk robe. It looked familiar, and he smiled when he realized the robe was something he had picked out for her during her first pregnancy. It was silky soft… and he had thought the blue color brought out her eyes. Maybe the fact that she was actually wearing something he had given her was a positive sign.

A mental voice he didn't want to hear, mocked him as a fool, reminding him that Samantha was exhausted and probably hadn't gone shopping so that's why she was wearing the robe that a monster had given her.

No, no, no, **_no_**, he pleaded to the uncaring, mocking voice. She liked it and she's wearing it! That's enough for me.

God knows that he was obsessing on finding anything positive on which to pin his shattered hopes on.

George's smile faded when he realized that Samantha was terrified of him and doing her best to hide it from him. But his senses were still acute from being tanked, and he could smell her fear, hear her breath quicken when she became aware of how close he was to her, and see the faintest shivers as her body shook.

He knelt on the floor before her, noticing how she instinctively moved away from him.

"Samantha, I'm truly sorry about what happened between us. I haven't been thinking clearly these past few years… I know that…" He rubbed his head, cursed himself for what he had done, and tried again. "I'm very regretful for everything. I wish you would believe me."

His apology earned a bitter laugh from his victim.

"Talk's cheap, George. Actions speak louder than words," she reminded him shakily. Then her voice steadied as she spat, "So far, you've been a real Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I'm just warning you, you come near me again, looking for lovin', I'll **_kill_** you. If you hurt the girls, I will **_kill_** you."

They were brave words coming from a woman on the verge of a complete physical collapse. He tried not to smile, but failed.

"You're smirking. What, do you think I wouldn't be delighted to put you in your grave? I'd drive the stake through your heart, just to make sure you wouldn't rise from the dead," Samantha spat.

"No… I'm just damn proud of you, Samantha. You're still fighting," George informed her. "Keep fighting, Samantha, don't give up. Because the each time you give up, it gets easier and easier not to fight back."

Samantha sighed, and she rubbed her belly. It was an almost obsessive gesture, George noticed, as though it brought her comfort.

"I will never understand you," she admitted. "Now go, I'm tired."

* * *

George didn't leave; instead he closed his eye, and sighed. The monster that wore George Hammond's face was quiet for a few minutes, and then he spoke her name. 

"Yes, George?" She warily asked.

"When you get home, promise me you won't tell me what I've become," he pleaded. "It's bad enough to live with the knowledge of the monster I've become… but please… give me a brief time of peace… Don't tell about my grandchildren… **_please_**… don't tell anyone about the girls… especially who their father is… **_don't_** tell me… **_don't_** tell your father…Let me have a few blessed moments of peace… I beg you…"

"George, I haven't been able to figure out a way home," Samantha stated quietly. "Now, please, let me get some sleep."

"Please… please… **_promise_** me…" George insisted. "When you get home, don't let me know… please… It's for your safety, Samantha… If Kinsey doesn't know about the girls, maybe… they'll be **_safe_**… You know the dates; you know when everything will go to hell, so just make sure you and the girls at the SGC that day… so you can get off the planet… **_please_**…."

"I swear to you, on Kayla and Tessa, that I am so sorry for what I have done to you," he insisted in an inconsolable tone. "Don't ever forgive me, Samantha… but know I would do anything to take back that night… I'd give up my good eye **_willingly_**… I'd sell my soul… but it seems to have gone astray…I don't think anyone would offer me much for it…my twisted soul is so dark and stained with the blood of innocents, but I'd sell it… I **_would_**…"

He was weeping now, and Sam rubbed her own tearing eyes. Oh God, she was so exhausted, and she just couldn't deal with George right now.

"Please…. Please tell me Emma was conceived before I had my breakdown, please," George whispered in a pleading tone. "Lie to me, I don't care, just make me believe it, please. I need to believe that now, more than you could ever understand."

Hesitantly, she reached toward the weeping man, and then she positioned his head against her belly. She began rubbing her hand against his shoulders, wondering **_why_** she was comforting this shattered wreck of a man, and why, after every cruelty he had inflicted on her, she feared, hated and yet **_pitied_** him.

_**Once… you would have been proud to have him as your father, Emma. **_

"I'm so tired, Samantha. What did I ever do to make God so determined to crucify me over and over again?"

"Shhh… George…. Shhh…" she whispered. "Emma was conceived before what happened…"

He was weeping harder now, and out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Janet Fraiser in the doorway. The doctor was in tears, and she mouthed, "Do you want me to stay?"

Samantha shook her head, "No".

"Living Room," Janet mouthed back before she continued down the hallway toward the living room.

And Samantha continued to stroke the sobbing man's back and continued to wonder about her ambivalent response to George Hammond. She hated him, feared him, and God help her, she had loved him. After he had finished sobbing, he continued resting his head against her belly for a few more minutes, while Samantha rubbed his back. Then he pulled away from her, and looked at her.

"I'm going to sit on the bed, as I need to talk to you," he explained.

"Don't get too close," Samantha warned him.

"No. I want to talk to you about what I had mentioned to you in the Happy Room. Samantha, I really want you to Collar me," he tersely informed her. "It will be programmed to respond to your voice only. If you say the word, "_Tao qua_", it will kill me."

"_Tao qua_?" Samantha repeated.

"I thought it would be easier to say, as opposed to "_Kal shaka mel_!" His tone was joking, but his one eye was deadly serious.

"I don't speak Goa'uld, George." That reminder was delivered in a flat tone after his half-hearted quip.

The fiery personality that once was Samantha was muted and dimmed, and George knew that it was completely his fault.

"_Tao qua_ means die, and _Kal shaka mel_ is your fondest wish for me to go directly to hell," he explained. "I figured if you were fearful for your life, _Kal shaka mel_ is a mouthful to scream."

She rubbed her eyes, and he sighed.

"Your father and Selmak have cracked. We've got insurrection running through the troops. They'll come after your father again; they'll come after you and the girls again as well."

"I'll tell them that I was victim," she protested. "They'll protect me. They can't believe that I married you **_willing_**."

"They'll see you as a potential rallying point for those still loyal to Jacob and me. They'll kill the girls, Samantha. They weren't after just Jake tonight; they were after you and Janet and the children. Children can be considered rallying points. Don't you remember your history? How many rulers were deposed and then their children were brought back into power?"

"Right now, I'm the only one that can keep our kids safe. So, I can't go back into that Padded Cell, but if you collar me, you will know that I can't do a damn thing to hurt you."

Samantha shook her head wearily, before asking, "How can you remove the collar? It's not any good to me if you can remove it."

"It'll be coded to your voice. Only you will be able to remove it. If I try to remove it, it'll be programmed to kill me. If I die, it will re-set itself, go inert and fall off. If you die before I do, the Collar will remain on until I die. Remember, I'll let you work on your escape attempt and I won't stop you."

Janet entered the room then, and she looked exhausted.

"George, someone needs to speak to you. He's in the living room," Janet explained. "It's the Spook; he says it's a matter of utmost urgency."

* * *

Samantha followed George out to the living room, ignoring Janet's requests that she lay down for a bit. She entered the living room and was surprised to see that Spook was a rather haggard looking Harry Maybourne. The years had not been kind to Maybourne, as his beard was streaked with white and his eyes were haunted. His usual puckish smile had been replaced by a severe demeanor. 

"General Hammond. Samantha Carter, Janet Fraiser," the bearded Maybourne acknowledged them each with a nod of his head. "General, you've got problems. Chekov is going to fall off the wagon tonight."

"What?" Hammond growled. "He's been sober for years now."

Janet gasped and began loudly questioning George about Chekov being an alcoholic, demanding to know why such information had been kept from her.

Samantha rubbed her aching head while George explained over Janet's squawks of disapproval, how it had been a closely guarded secret that Gregor was a highly functional alcoholic and had been relying on vodka to get him through the traumas he had endured after the fall of Earth. When Chekov had stopped being able to function, that's when Jacob, Selmak and George had staged a hand device intervention.

_**A hand device? They used a hand device to detox Chekov? Why the hell didn't they get Janet to help them?**_

"Perhaps, General, I shouldn't say that he's going to fall off the wagon. He's going to be pushed and pushed hard. Right now, he's in his apartment where he was greeted by a dead rat and four cases of vodka. It appears that you didn't round up all the insurgents, Hammond, and they're letting their displeasure with him be known."

"**_Four cases?_** Where the hell did they get **_vodka_**?" George protested. "Greg had the only vodka on New Earth."

"Beckett," Harry explained. "Trust a Scot to figure out how to make a distillery out of spare medical supplies. Weir apparently had doubts about Chekov toward the end. Greg's a lousy double agent, Hammond, as he thinks he owes his life to you and Jacob. Chekov took risks he shouldn't have as he wanted to prove to you that he was still loyal. With you incommunicado, Chekov got uneasy and they realized what he was doing."

"I can't have him drinking again," Hammond spat. "Janet, fix this wound. I'll want two septs of security guards..."

Hammond stopped, realized that his support personnel consisted of two pregnant females, one who justifiably wanted him dead and the Spook. His broad shoulders slumped as the full weight of the situation hit him hard.

"Shit," he said in a tired voice. "It's just me, isn't it? I've got to save Greg. Janet, bind my wounds. Harry?"

"I'll stay with them until you get back. If anything happens to you, I'll get them and the children to safety," Harry promised.

* * *

Gregor Chekov opened the door to his apartment, and he motioned for the head Super Soldier to search his apartment. Everything appeared safe, no explosives, no radiation, nothing out of the ordinary, so he signaled for them to stand outside his door. Greg picked up the book he had been attempting to read and tried to pick up from where he had stopped reading. 

He walked into his bedroom, too tired to do much more than fall unconscious into large, empty bed when his tired eyes realized that there was something waiting for him on the bed.

Four cases of Vodka whose labels were emblazoned with the name Vodka _Rat_sputin over a picture of his wife plus there was a very dead rat that was sitting on his pillow like a complimentary chocolate complete with a red and gold bow. Chekov backed away from the demon brew and he found himself in his kitchen. He grabbed a glass, turned on the tap water, filled the glass and drank it down quickly before he began spitting it up.

It had a bitter aftertaste to it, but he knew what the hell was pouring from his faucet.

_**Chyort poberi! Nu vse, tebe pizda! Goddamn it, you're fucking dead, Gregor! There was vodka in the tap. Sweet Mother of God, there was vodka running from the tap.**_

The stuff was easily ninety percent alcohol and Chekov knew that Hammond would kill him. After Jake, Selmak and Hammond had staged an intervention and dried him out with a hand device, Chekov had been warned that the continuation of his life depended on him staying stone cold sober. For four years, he hadn't had a touch of alcohol.

But now… the resistance wanted him dead and Hammond would kill him if Hammond believed that he had fallen off the wagon.

It was almost enough to make him start drinking again, and in spite of his best efforts, he could easily imagine himself taking just one drink. One ounce of liquid courage, he knew, and his mind would stop racing, he'd be able to think clearly and rationally… and then he wouldn't be able to stop drinking.

His hands shaking, he turned on the faucet, thinking that sooner or later, there would be water flowing from the tap. Then if he waited long enough, the little vodka in his system would be broken down, and then he'd call Hammond. The General had been furious when he mistakenly thought that Greg had fallen off the wagon… and only Siler's intervention had convinced Hammond of the truth.

How long would he have to wait? He couldn't think, he couldn't think… one small sip, one small sip, and his brain would stop racing in a circle, like a rat trapped in a cage, running around and around in his exercise wheel, not realizing that there was no escape, no matter how fast he ran… there was no escape… there would be no escape… until he died….

Gregor Chekov sank to the floor, and began praying that he'd be able to survive the next few hours of his life, as they were promising to be the longest he had ever endured.

One little sip, his mind kept whispering. One little sip.

* * *

George grimaced at the pain from the healing device. 

"Damn it, that hurts more and more each time you use it," he grumbled.

"I'm pregnant, and I really shouldn't be using it because my symbiote is dormant," Janet snapped. "But if I don't use it, you're going to bleed out. As it is, you've lost a lot of blood. It's either this or the tank."

"No more tanks," he state implicitly. "No more tanks."

"If I hadn't used the tank this last time, more than likely Samantha, the children and I would be dead," Janet reminded him.

"General, the super soldiers are waiting outside the door to escort you to Chekov's apartment," Harry informed him.

George stood up, growled at the pain from the injury on his side, and grabbed his flack jacket.

"Janet, I'll need you to be ready with anything that acts similar to that anabuse drug. I'll need to bring Chekov here and you'll have to treat him here. Last time, Selmak administered the drug which is why you never knew about Greg's problem. Jake and I… we weren't so sure about how far we could trust your medical staff. Should be back in twenty minutes."

He left the apartment, growled a command at the back clad Super Soldiers and went toward Gregor Chekov's apartment at a fast pace.

* * *

Harry Maybourne sat down easily in one of the chairs, and he nonchalantly pulled out a zat. He motioned for the two women to sit down. Janet refused as she was getting together her medical bag of tricks for when Chekov arrived. She bustled toward the spare room where her medical supplies had been dumped, leaving Samantha alone with the Spook. 

She ignored Maybourne and went into the bedroom where the children were. Janet had obviously been in to check on Malcolm as the crib had been noticeably tidied up and straightened. She checked on both the girls, who were soundly sleeping and she glared at Maybourne who was holding the Zat just so.

Motioning for him to leave the room, Samantha went back to the living room where she sat down.

"Is that to make sure I behave?" Samantha questioned.

"No, this is to protect you and your family. Just because we got most of the rebels tonight, doesn't mean we got all of them."

"Thank you," she said insincerely, as she trusted Maybourne about as far as she could throw Austin.

"I must admit Samantha, that when I first heard you had married George, I was somewhat surprised," he said conversationally. "I never thought George was your type to be honest, and I always thought…"

Harry paused before smirking, "You and O'Neill… service regs be damned, what with Jack being so much like your father, but I must say, pregnancy seems to agree with you. It certainly must agree with you as you and George will soon having three children under the age of a year? Especially in these uncertain times."

Putting her hand protectively on her stomach, Samantha attempted unsuccessfully not to glare daggers at Harry. Austin, realizing that his Mum was uneasy about Maybourne, decided to best way to handle it was to sit on the couch next to her and watch Maybourne **_very_** carefully. The dog hadn't left her side all evening, and Samantha then gave him a couple scratches in appreciation of his dedication and loyalty.

"I'll get you a bone tomorrow, Austin," she promised.

Then she turned to face Maybourne.

"I didn't realize you were one of the lucky ones that escaped," Samantha retorted.

"Hammond," Harry explained easily as though that one word could explain everything. "Your father and George decided it would be quite useful to have someone of my skills… In all honesty, I don't truly exist except for the generosity of George and Jacob-Selmak. Speaking of which," Harry's eyes narrowed before he continued, "I'm very surprised that Jacob isn't here."

"He's exhausted and he's sleeping," Samantha retorted. God knows why she was defending her father, and trying to pretend that he wasn't crazier than a mad hatter, but old habits died hard.

Maybourne gave her a very long look, quirked a smile that plainly said that he knew that she was lying through her teeth, and then he waved his hand to let her know that he'd let her have her little lie between friends.

"What shall we talk about Samantha? Baby names? Knitting patterns? We can talk about anything you want," Harry assured her.

Samantha gave him a long look, and then she asked him, "Anything?"

"Anything," he promised.

"Will you tell George what I asked?" Samantha questioned.

"What? You want to know if George is having an affair?" Maybourne laughed at the thought. "No, you are the sun that rises in his eyes…. There's no one for him but you."

Somehow, she managed not to vomit when Harry told her that, but it was a fiercely fought battle. It took her a few minutes to compose her roiling stomach, and Harry abruptly turned serious.

"If you don't want me to tell George what you asked, then I reserve the right not to answer certain questions, Samantha. I am alive today only because of their patronage. I know George has been… ill… recently, Samantha, but I have told no one," Harry assured her.

She thought about the question that she had desired to ask someone, **_anyone_**, the one subject that had haunted her for the last few years. But there had been no one to ask, especially one that she could trust to keep silent.

"Agreed. Don't tell George and I'll let you not answer it," Samantha decided after a long moment.

"And in exchange for possibly answering your question, I get to request a favor from you," Harry then added that provision after she agreed.

"Maybourne," she hissed.

"I need things too, Samantha. You want answers. I can give them to you, but I need something in exchange. Not for me, Samantha. It's for someone else," explained Harry. "What do you want to know?"

She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. The question she needed to ask was the entire crux of her current situation. George had given her the dreadful news about SG1, and that night, she had willing allowed him to seduce her because she had been hopelessly lost in her despair and her grief. Since then, Samantha always wondered if their first night together had all been based on a lie. The death of her team had been a little too convenient, a little too pat. She had been so adamant about finding a way home, and then, when SG1 had been killed, she had lost her resolve.

No, instead she had sunk into a mental malaise, and then…first came marriage, then came Samantha pushing a baby carriage…. Hannah and Abby…. Now Emma… they were unbreakable ties to this time, this nightmarish existence.

What had it all been a lie? What if something had deliberately happened to her team because her father and George knew that it was quickest way for bind her to their cause? Marry her off to George, have her pop out a few kids… But yet, every time she had gotten pregnant, George had honestly seemed as surprised as she was.

"How do I know I can trust you, Harry?"

Harry flinched, and nodded his head, "Still as brutally honest as ever. It's not a surprise you never made it past the rank of Major as you need to smooze when you get to the higher ranks, Samantha."

"Remember when you met me at the outdoor café to tell me about a Threshold situation at the SGC? You ended up calling me an idiot every day of the week and wanting to know why I couldn't take one day off," Harry reminded her. "I didn't believe you… I made a mistake then. I admit it, and for the trouble I caused you for not believing you, I will try to answer your one question truthfully in order to pay my debt to you."

"What happened to SG1, Harry? What happened to my team? Did my father and George have them… **_killed_**?" Samantha questioned.

For the first time ever in recorded history, Harry Maybourne was speechless and his glib tongue failed him.

"Next time, warn me before you're going to kick me in the balls, Samantha," Harry requested. "I wasn't expecting that question."

He ran his hand through his more salt then pepper hair and he sighed.

"No, they didn't have them killed. I would have known. There would have been rumors, and rumors always get their way back to me. They were unhappy with the fact that your father and George told them that there was no way they'd get home to their own time. Just the ramifications of them going back to their correct time, there would be ripples to the time line that would be immeasurable, as George and Jacob were afraid that events would even spiral even more out of control. They argued a bit, you were ill with the reaction to your first symbiote, so you were kept out of the loop. Then Teal'c, O'Neill and Doctor Jackson…. I saw them get on the ship before they left New Earth to help support one of the secret bases. Siler and Davis were there, they can confirm it if you want. They walked willingly, apparently under their own power onto that ship."

"As far as I know, Samantha, your team died when Ba'al attacked. They sent rescue ships out, manned by Super Soldiers as George and Jacob didn't want to lose any additional 'real' people and those ships were annihilated."

"They never left me a message," Samantha insisted. "They wouldn't have just left me alone here."

"What happened was Bra'tac launched that an unsuccessful assassination attempt against the three of them. There was also a sept of Jaffa loyal to Bra'tac that was given instructions to kill SG1. Bra'tac didn't know it was SG1 that he had ordered assassinated, but the idea was to destabilize George and Jacob to the point where Weir and her cronies could take over. I found out, slipped the information to George and Jacob, and to protect SG1, they put them on that ship. They didn't want to go. They didn't want to leave you, but O'Neill agreed that it would probably be safer for you here than off world as you were still recovering from your implantation of the symbiote."

"The ship was running silent due to Ba'al's new sensors so they couldn't contact you directly. Once they had gotten to the base, they could have sent you a message, and as far as I know, the three of them were planning to do that."

Samantha took a deep breath, and tried to stop shaking.

"Your father and George didn't kill them, Samantha," Harry insisted. "Let me get you something to drink."

"Thank you," Samantha whispered, even as she began rubbing her belly.

_**He's telling me the truth, Emma. Dad and George didn't kill them. Oh thank God… Why is George promising me that he'll let me try to get home again?**_

"Because honestly, I don't believe George is thinking that the situation can't get much worse. The war is about to be lost, Samantha… and I know what happened between you two."

Samantha flinched when he said that as she realized that she had spoken the last few thoughts out loud, Maybourne then quickly offered her the drink, and then he sat down next to her. She thanked him and chugged it down quickly.

"Maybe he's hoping for some sort of Cosmic Restart button, a Chronological Do Over, if you will."

"Good God, you know…" Samantha whispered.

"Yes, I do…" Harry admitted. "And I also know that his guilt and his shame over what happened contributed to his breakdown."

"Now, it's time for you to return my favor. You have influence with George, you need to convince him not to send Weir and her crew to the firing squad," Maybourne insisted. "Don't let him turn them into martyrs, Samantha. He can Han Solo them if he wants them out of the picture for a bit or he can exile them to another planet, the inherit problem being what will happen if all their knowledge of New Earth's defenses falls into Ba'al's hands. Han Soloing them is the best way to handle it."

"Han Soloing?" Samantha asked.

"You must have seen that movie. Star Wars, whatever one of the series it was, where Han Solo gets turned into a human ice cube? We don't have a prison here, we exile rarely and the firing squad is used a bit too often for the few Terrans left on New Earth. The Jaffa don't mind, they're used to unquestioning loyalty to their Fake Gods but the Earthlings are a weak race. They don't want to admit that they're doomed and they question how the war has been run so far, not realizing that George and Jacob's questionable methods have prevented the mass genocide of the human race. Maybe humanity hasn't earned the right to survive, to continue to evolve, Samantha. The universe has made her dislike of humanity quite clear, but I don't believe that we deserve to die like rats on a sinking ship."

"In other words… you deep freeze your prisoners?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Yes. Once a year, they are thawed, and if they are willing to admit to their crimes and state their desire for rehabilitation, they are collared and allowed back into society. Apparently people dream when they're in deep freeze, and from all accounts, they're not nice dreams."

"Collars? They're impossible to get off, right?"

"Yes, each one of them is encoded with a different removal password, so what works on one, won't work on another," Harry explained. "The prisoners try to remove them; the collars will choke them to death."

"Dear God…" Samantha whispered. "I can see why the universe doesn't like humanity."

"Now, George will be coming back soon, dragging a rather ill Chekov behind him. You might want to excuse yourself from watching them detoxing Chekov, as it's going to be noisy and rather smelly, Samantha. The good doctor may want to run a few tests on the vodka; I wouldn't be surprised if they spiked it."

"I don't mean Pertsovka vodka, Samantha, where the Russians flavor it with honey and pepper. I think it might be interesting to take all the suspected collaborators and put them in a hot room until they're thirsty. Then offer them a drink of the vodka, see who accepts it willingly. Radek Zelenka will take a sip, I'm sure, but McKay, he'll claim that the vodka has citrus in it."

* * *

Janet was busy with her medical supplies when George burst into the apartment, surrounded by Super Soldiers who were half supporting, half dragging an ashen Chekov into the room. There was a copious amount of red blood pouring from both Chekov's mouth and nose. 

"George?" Janet questioned.

"Rat poisoning," Maybourne inserted. "Check for rat poisoning in the vodka."

"It shouldn't show up for a few days," Janet insisted. "Rat poison causes problems with the blood clotting ability, but it takes a **_few_** days."

"He only had a sip, and he spit it up. His nose started bleeding soon afterwards," George explained. "Come on, Greg, keep fighting damn it, I need you alive. You're no good to me dead."

Janet grabbed a scanner and began running it over Chekov. The Russian was pinching his nose in a vain attempt to stop the flow of blood.

"His anti-coags values are in the cellar; his proteins induced by Vitamin K antagonism are off the damn charts. Rat poisoning doesn't do that immediately unless Beckett modified it," Fraiser snapped. "Greg, I'm giving you massive dosages of Vitamin K to kick start your clotting factor, but I need you to vomit up everything. His symbiote's been poisoned also, so we'll have to see if we can save it also."

"Maybe they put it in his food," Hammond suggested. "Chekov cooks for himself normally, as he gotten more and more Russian as the years have passed. Does it matter right now how it happened? We need to get the bleeding under control."

"Take him to the kitchen, grab a bucket or two," Janet ordered.

Gregor Chekov was mumbling something, and Samantha was the only one that appeared to notice.

"_I confess to my Lord my God and before all of you, all my countless sins which I have committed till the present day and hour: in thought, word, and deed. Every day and every hour I sin through ingratitude to God for His great and numberless blessings to me and His most gracious providence and care for me, a sinner…"_

He was saying the prayer in English, not in Russian, no doubt deliberately so they could understand him. Not having a priest to absolve him of his guilt before he died, Gregor Antonov Chekov, the very last Russian military officer, was still trying to gain some sort of absolution.

"Chekov, I'm not letting you die, damn it," George growled. "Now, go to the kitchen."

* * *

Samantha sat in living room, listening to the sounds of Gregor Chekov getting quite obnoxiously ill. She couldn't say why she stayed in the living room, as Maybourne kept suggesting that she lie down and rest, but she refused. At last the Spook decided that it was time for stop babysitting her and he had disappeared with a cryptic "See you when I'm most needed and least expected." 

Finally, the heaving and retching stopped, and Gregor staggered out of the room. George was supporting the pale Russian, and Janet was on his other side.

"Samantha? Could you grab two pairs of George's clothes and a set for me? The three of us need to get cleaned up, as we're all covered in whatever Greg had for dinner," Janet insisted.

"Pashtet Iz Pechonki," the Russian explained in a very weak voice. "It's quite good normally, going down. Not so good, coming back up. Maybe I make it for you..."

"After we get you scrubbed," George suggested. "Because it smells pretty foul. Like liver and garlic."

Chekov laughed softly. "It is a Russian delicacy."

Chekov was then cleaned up, stuck with assorted IVs and put into the only available bed in the apartment which had been Janet and Samantha's bed.

"It's large enough for a party of six, so the three of us can share it. Don't try anything, Chekov," Janet warned playfully.

"I fear your husbands too much to even think of doing that," he insisted weakly. "Ah… not fear… General… I meant **_respect_**… Pardon me, my brain is foggy and I can not easily wrap my tongue around your convoluted language."

He mumbled something in Russian before he drifted off to sleep.

"George, you're bleeding again," Janet said softly.

"Only a little," he protested. "Go to bed, Janet. I'll be on the couch in the living room. Tomorrow… which is actually today… I will get the beds set up, so you don't have to share your bed with all your patients."

"Samantha, will you come to the living room please?" George requested. "I need you to do something for me. Then you can go back to bed with Janet and Greg."

Samantha did so regretfully, and she sat down on one of the chairs, wondering why she agreed. George brought a box out with him, and put it on the table. He opened it, took a silver collar out of it, and then knelt before Samantha.

"Collar me," he insisted. "To save our children from being poisoned. If you aren't under my protection, they'll get you and our children."

She took it from him, stared at it for a bit, weighing the possible consequences. Then Samantha pulled the silver collar apart and carefully put it around his beefy neck. It closed with an audible click and then it hummed when it activated. It then stopped humming, and George rubbed it with one thick finger.

"To reset it, you give the command to kill me, and then say _Ne_ _Tao qua_," he explained

After nodding her head that she understood, she got up from the chair and then turned toward the hallway. She walked slowly away, and then when she reached the hallway, she turned around to face Hammond who making himself comfortable on the couch.

"George?" Samantha called sweetly.

"Yes?" George answered warily, not trusting her.

"See you in hell, you fucking bastard. _**TAO QUA!" **_


	14. Chapter 14

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 14

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: MA – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction. Very Dark fic. This in particular is a very short, exceedingly dark chapter.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

We continue with our story with Samantha Carter and George having a rather overdue conversation, and Samantha having decided to kill George.

* * *

She took it from him, stared at it for a bit, weighing the possible consequences. Then Samantha pulled the silver collar apart and carefully put it around his beefy neck. It closed with an audible click and then it hummed when it activated. It then stopped humming, and George rubbed it with one thick finger. 

"To reset it, you give the command to kill me, and then say _Ne_ _Tao qua_," he explained.

After nodding her head that she understood, she got up from the chair and then turned toward the hallway. She walked slowly away, and then when she reached the hallway, she turned around to face Hammond who making himself comfortable on the couch.

"George?" Samantha called sweetly.

"Yes?" George answered warily, not trusting her.

"See you in hell, you fucking bastard. **_TAO QUA!"

* * *

_**

Samantha turned away from George and she was greeted with a hard slap to her face. To her surprise, it was the rather diminutive Janet Fraiser who had attacked her. The little spitfire had almost succeeded in knocking Samantha ass over tit.

"What are you **_doing_**?" Janet shrieked, her voice cracking from her emotional stress and her extreme anxiety. "He's the only person that can keep our children safe right now. I don't care if you don't want **_your_** children, but I refuse to let them murder Malcolm."

"Do you have any idea how they might do it? Will they knife him? Will they put rat poisoning in his bottle and give it to him with a fake smile when he's hungry? I will not let anything happened to Malcolm, not after I lost Cassie. Goddamn you, Samantha. Think of someone besides yourself for once!" Janet screamed.

Janet raised her hand again to slap her again, but George Hammond, who was still being strangled by his Collar, grabbed Janet's hand easily and prevented the blow from landing.

"No tao qua," Samantha whispered, and George began gasping for breath when the collar began to loosen.

"Janet, it was…a test… ok? She wanted to make… sure that … the collar worked, ok? She wasn't trying to kill me," George gasped.

"It didn't look that way to me," Janet protested. She rubbed her head after she yanked her hand free from George's grasp.

"It didn't look that way to me. She wanted to kill you, George. You're the only one that is going to keep Malcolm alive what with Jacob and Selmak … being… **_ill_**. If anything happens to you, they'll come after **_Malcolm_**. You know they will. You've got to hold it together, George. If they know Jake's not sane… they'll come after Malcolm… they'll hurt my baby, George…I can't lose them, not after Cassie. Not after everything else. I can't lose anyone else!"

Janet broke into body wracking sobs, her obvious fear for her children physically painful to Samantha. Sam reached for her friend to offer her some sort of comfort, but to Samantha's surprise, George got there first. George hugged the small woman carefully.

"Easy… Janet… you're exhausted. Samantha would never let anything happen to Malcolm. She loves Malcolm…," George reminded Janet. His voice was hoarse as though he had a bad cold. He looked at Samantha and motioned for her to chime in with a reassuring comment.

"I love Malcolm, Janet, I do. I wouldn't let **_anyone_** hurt him," Samantha agreed. "Or the baby you're having."

Janet was still sobbing uncontrollably, and George kept rubbing her back.

"You should be in bed, Janet. Sleeping. I'm sorry you got so upset seeing Samantha testing the collar. We thought it would be best to do it in private. I had _**no **_doubts that Samantha would issue the reset command," George assured Janet.

His blue eye looked at Samantha and there was a grimace of a smile on his face; the facial contortion letting Samantha know that he was lying. George Hammond knew perfectly well that he'd be dead if Janet hadn't interceded, and wonders of wonders, he accepted that fact easily and without protest.

"I'm wearing the collar so Samantha can feel safe around me, Janet. You know Samantha has concerns, and they are **_justifiable_** concerns about me and my not very firm grasp on my sanity. I really hurt her, and there's nothing I can ever do to take that moment of utter madness back, you know that's true, Janet," George's voice was honey smooth as he reassured Janet.

"I saw her face, George, she wanted you **_dead_**," Janet sobbed. "She did. She wanted you dead."

"Shhh… Shhh… Janet…Of course, she wants me dead. But Samantha is a very pragmatic soul. She may want me to rot with the fishes, but she knows that if I'm dead, there's no one that will be able to keep the children safe. Chekov's not in the chain of command, Jacob and I removed him from the chain of command when his drinking got out of control. I think he's proven his loyalty and his sobriety in spades tonight, so I will bring him back into the chain," George assured the diminutive doctor.

"Now today is going to be a very long day," George reminded Janet. His voice was quite hoarse still, but he was making an obvious effort to project a soothing, reassuring tone to the emotionally exhausted woman. "You need to sleep. Your baby needs you to sleep. Is there anything you can take to help you sleep that won't adversely affect your baby?"

"Maybe Benadryl," Janet answered after a brief pause.

"Do you think Samantha might need something? I think she's been through a great deal of stress and she needs to get a good night's sleep also," suggested George.

Janet nodded her head, and then George released her from the hug.

"Tomorrow, Today… whatever day this might be, I want you to check my levels. I think I'm the mentally clearest I've been in some time," the Pro Term leader of New Earth assured Janet. "Perhaps Jacob using the hand device on me was in fact, the smartest thing he's done."

"ECT…." Janet commented hopefully. Her voice held the slightest tinge of hope. She turned to face Samantha, "Electroconvulsive therapy was used to treat depression…Sometimes there was **_dramatic_** improvement with people who had major depression with psychosis. Maybe, if his levels are increasing, maybe I can find a way to help your father, Samantha. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

Her friend was pleading for reassurance and so Samantha agreed that it would be absolutely wonderful if her crazy father and his symbiote could be helped.

"Janet," George drawled in a rather hoarse Southern Comfort voice, before he put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her toward her bedroom. "Go get the Benadryl, get enough for you and for Samantha so you two ladies can get some sleep."

"But you're still bleeding," Janet protested.

The doctor motioned to George's side, and the sticky dark red stain of congealing, drying blood.

"Nope, I'm not," George contradicted. "It's an old wound that you've already treated. I just haven't changed my shirt. Janet, you're tired and you need to sleep. Now go."

He gently pushed her toward the bedroom, and Janet stumbled wearily towards it. Samantha tried to escape from George's presence but he put one arm in front of her. She backed up, found herself trapped in a corner with no escape and she began shaking.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Samantha," George promised.

"Been there, done that, got the T-shirt," Samantha reminded him. Grabbing her courage, she pushed his arm away and began walking toward him. To her delight, George backed up, and soon found himself against the opposite wall of the hallway.

_**Aha. Hammond, not so brave are we?**_

"Plus the broken ribs, the broken orbital, and my personal favorite... that one very special night we had together, where you called me a whore and worse, George." Samantha spat.

"If there was any way I could take back that, I would. No matter what the costs. I've told you that, and for very good reasons, you don't believe my sincerity," George insisted softly.

"It's not your sincerity, Hammond, it's your goddamn sanity that I don't believe in," Samantha spat, the acid in her voice caustic enough to burn the strongest metal like a hot knife through soft butter. "How many personalities do you have in that bald head of yours? How many more do I get the pleasure of meeting and greeting in my bed?"

She had her hand on the 'zat, and she was ready to scream the words that would kill George then and there.

"None of them will be in your bed, Samantha," the man who wore Hammond's face stated. "I turned what was supposed to be an act of love between two people into a mindless act of animal rage…"

She slapped him then, and the impact knocked his head against the wall. To her surprise, her solid blow seemed not to affect him in the slightest.

"Mindless act of animal rage?" Samantha wanted to scream that pithy phrase at him, but instead, her voice broke and she nearly sobbed.**_ Mindless act of animal rage_**? That did not adequately sum up the physical and emotional horrors that she had endured, and would continue to endure, world without end.

Samantha slapped him again, _**harder**_, and for a wonder he took it.

"Mindless act of animal rage? You knew perfectly damn well what you were doing to me, because you deliberately and intentionally attempted to destroy me. Say it, Hammond, admit that you raped me. Not one of those other personalities in your bald head, but you, my former CO, the man I once trusted more than anyone else in the world."

"I raped you," he whispered. "And I have caused you unbearable physical and emotional pain by my actions, and there is no way I can ever make amends to you."

"I trusted you," she spat. "I trusted you, and you turned on me, like a rabid dog."

Again she slapped him, and once more Hammond didn't move. The right side of his face was red and swollen from the repeated impact of her hand, and the bright mark's redness matched some of more recent scars on the ravaged left side of his face.

"If you really want to cause me physical pain, Samantha, you should hit me where my eye patch is," George informed her dryly. "I'm sure that it will be excruciatingly painful."

"Physical pain? **_Physical pain_**? I want you to experience completely the emotional hell you put me through. I can't sleep at night because I feel your weight on top of me, screaming like a mad man about my alleged betrayal while you punch the hell out of me. You called me a whore, Hammond. You told me…" Samantha paused, as she couldn't continue.

Repeating Hammond's hate filled, insane tirade was just too much for her raw nerves right now, so she stopped, trying to compose herself.

She would NOT fall apart in front of the monster.

Never.

Ever.

Again.

"I remember what I did, what I said, all too clearly, these days," Hammond protested. "You need to remind constantly of what I did, so I will be unable to justify what I did as an act of madness. There is no excuse for what I did to you and what I have done to others."

"Oh good, you **_remember_**. I'm so glad both of us remember what happened, now maybe you'll have my nightmares for me," she spat. "Or do you expect me to just forgive and forget George, now that you've repeatedly apologized for being such a bad little boy? Do you want me to take you to bed, George? So we can kiss and make up?"

She hit him again, and he uttered not a sound. George was just looking at her, with that one, lone blue eye. His broad shoulders pulled straight and he was standing ramrod straight as though he was standing at attention.

"No, I am dammed, Samantha. There is no redemption for someone like me," George stated quietly.

"Oh poor little you, you're one of the damned, George," Samantha bitterly retorted. "Too bad, so sad."

"I am damned beyond all hopes of redemption, Samantha. I'm not the man that once longed for a few stolen minutes of peace in your arms, Samantha. God has turned his face away from me and from your father. I am truly **_dammed_**, and when I die, I will be in the seventh circle of hell, screaming for them to rain fire upon me. I have watched my children's last breaths while they were murdered, heard my granddaughters scream for me to save them, and I rained nuclear fire down to scorch Earth to prevent the Goa'uld from turning it into a nursery."

"And forever and ever, universe without end, I will scream for them to rain fire down upon me. My head will be unbowed, for I will finally be getting the eternal punishment I truly deserve. I will face my punishment willingly as it's what I have earned as I have destroyed just about everything that I have ever cared about. Our daughters are the only things I have yet to corrupt and destroy."

The scariest part about the conversation was how perfectly sane Hammond sounded.

His voice was controlled and emotionless. For one who was discussing how damned he was, George sounded like he was discussing the weather.

"I don't know what you expect from me," Samantha stated quietly. Her head was pounding, where was Janet with the damn Benadryl? She wanted to sleep for the next month.

"Keep the girls safe," he insisted. His voice was raw with emotion. "Protect them from me."

"Oh Goddamn it, George. I don't understand you at all, but I know that I fucking hate you," she whispered.

"I expect you to hate me, Samantha," George said that with a quiet dignity. "But you told me that you love Emma in spite of the bastard that fathered her, and I know you love Abby and Hannah. You tried to protect Hannah from me tonight when I was holding her. I should have given you Hannah. I know that, but I **_love_** that little girl. She and her sisters are my greatest joys. What am I saying? Those beautiful little girls are my **_only_** joys, besides Austin."

"Amazing, isn't it? To come such a long way from home, and to fall so far, and all I have left is the goodwill of that damn Rottie."

Hammond barked a bitter laugh.

"Samantha, the funny thing is that you and I both know that dog loves you and the kids far more than he does me."

She found herself backing away from him, as she felt like she was in the Twilight Zone.

Fuck, fuck, **_fuck_**, he was sounding like the real Hammond now.

"I want to make a few suggestions. The first one is, if you're going to kill me, Samantha," he instructed her patiently, "You need to make sure that there are no witnesses, dear. You could have succeeded tonight except Janet was worried about the two of us being alone together."

That was it.

She couldn't handle this conversation and so she slapped him again, putting all her weight behind it. This time, the blow made him unsteady on his feet, and it took him a moment to regain his balance.

"You're getting better, Samantha. Next time, go for my left eye. I won't see the blow about to land, after all," Hammond suggested calmly. "I won't be expecting it, and I won't be prepared."

"Remember; go for the eye patch, as you will be able to inflict **_agonizing _**pain on me. Perhaps, you might want to talk to one of the Jaffa about borrowing one of their pain sticks. Perhaps when I'm sleeping, you can use it then. But be damn careful though, Samantha," he warned. "Don't go too far, Samantha."

"Careful? About hurting you?" She barked a laugh. "Why shouldn't I hurt you? Like you hurt me? Why shouldn't I inflict as much pain as you're apparently quite willing and eager to take?"

"Because once you start sliding down the slippery slope of madness, there ain't no handholds to stop your descent. And it's goddamn long way to fall," George informed her. "And the climb back up to sanity, is even longer, and sometimes, when you're clawing your way back up, you realize how much easier it would be just to let go."

That comment was the final straw and she staggered away from him, trying not to show her fear to the monster.

"Who the fucking hell are you?" Samantha spat.

"I'm George S. Hammond. I once was a Major General in United States Air Force. I once was a husband, a father and a grandfather, but am no longer. I destroyed my homeworld and murdered countless millions of people to prevent the Goa'uld from turning it into a nursery. I am truly damned," he retorted slowly. "And for the first time in a very long time, I'm seeing things very clearly."


	15. Chapter 15

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 15

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: MA – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction. Very Dark fic.

Pairings: Yes. Several M/F/S (Male Female Symbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

We continue with our story. Samantha is at last sleeping after her adventure filled day and George and Chekov are discussing matters.

* * *

"Radek would have drunk the vodka," George brusquely informed Chekov. "I believe that he didn't know about the rat poisoning."

Chekov slowly nodded his head.

It had been a long morning compounded upon an even more hellishly long night, what with assassination attempts and then the various suspects of the attempted coupe de etat rounded up, separated and then processed. Each suspect had been put into a small, hot, airless room with two chairs, a desk and a table.

And each suspect had a nice bottle of rat poisoned flavored vodka sitting in a vat of ice along with glasses.

"He's honorable," Chekov coughed that response, before vainly rubbing his aching head in the hopes of easing his headache. "He doesn't like me because I'm Russian, and he's Czech, but he's honorable…. For a Czech."

Chekov barked a dry laugh about his faint praise of Radek Zelenka, his good humor turning into a rough, barking cough that caused George to wince in sympathy. The Russian roughly wiped his mouth with his hand before grimacing in distaste when he saw the bright red specks of blood on his hand.

"You don't look too hot, Greg," George knew he was stating the obvious, but he was too damn dependant on Chekov at the moment to lose him.

"I don't feel… **_well_**," the Russian admitted.

Knowing Chekov was a poster boy for Stoicism, George nodded his head in acknowledgement of what Greg wasn't saying. For the Russian to admit to him that he felt unwell meant Chekov was truly suffering. Yet George knew that he had to push Chekov farther, not allowing Chekov's current physical frailties to prevent him from using and consuming Greg.

Not while the Goa'ulds still viewed New Earth as a prized crown jewel to add to their collection.

Not while Jake Carter was howling at the moon mad.

And certainly not while George had no idea who the hell to trust.

Yet George had to give voice to what little compassion remained to him. He owed Chekov that much; or maybe, his conscience was decided that it was finally, long past time for it to make an appearance.

"You're seeing Janet again, aren't you?" Hammond drawled that directive slowly before continuing in more commanding voice. Compassion could only go so far, and he didn't possess enough mercy to fill a complete sentence. "**_Don't_** make me order you to visit the good doctor..."

"When she gets up," Chekov assured George. "She's sleeping, and she's exhausted."

* * *

Janet had restlessly slept for all of two hours, before she had to pee due to the weight of her son on what she knew to be the universe's smallest bladder, and since then Janet Fraiser had been running assorted chemical analyses on George Hammond's blood in a spare room.

Not wanting to get her hopes up, but praying, pleading, screaming to a silent, taciturn God that this time… this time… she would find the right combination of drugs to save her husband and his symbiote.

"Your counts are better, George," Janet whispered, not daring to voice her hopes too loudly. "They're higher than they were yesterday. In fact, they are **_noticeably_** higher. Was it the hand device? Electro Convulsive Treatment? Has the answer been there all along?"

Janet compared the preliminary results, ran assorted cross-testing against the various components, and then she rubbed her burning eyes. She needed to sleep, but damn it, she might have finally found the answer to her husband's plummeting serotonin levels.

"Oh God, I can bring them back," she whispered. "I can bring them back to the men they once were."

Trying not to make any noise, she left the room, and she slipped down the hallway. Hammond and Chekov were in the midst of a grave discussion, and she was able to pass the two men unnoticed. Pausing for just a brief moment before she entered Jacob's room, she silently prayed for strength.

She knocked on the door, and called out softly, "Honey? It's me… Janet… May I come in?"

Not getting a response, yet not hearing, "NO", Janet opened the door, warning the man and symbiote inside that she would be entering the room.

"Jacob? Selmak?" Janet called cheerily.

Selmak's glowing eyes watched her as she entered the room. Her husband's face was expressionless, but Janet could almost physically feel how stressed the two were.

"Is Jacob awake and aware?" Janet tried to keep the hope from her voice.

Selmak nodded once. Jacob/Selmak were sitting on a bed with Jake's back against the wall.

"I think I might have something that will help," Janet explained in a dry, clinical voice, not wanting to give either of them false hopes. She paused before continuing slowly, "But it will **_hurt_**. A jolt from a Hand device is a great deal like an Electro Convulsive Treatments…"

Only the blinking of eyes was the response from Selmak and Jacob. They said not a word.

"It should help you… but it will hurt," Janet whispered. "I don't want to hurt you…"

Selmak dryly swallowed before softly laughing. It was a rusty sound, and then Selmak sighed.

"Don't worry, Janet. How many times have I told you? You **_only_** hurt the ones you love."

* * *

By the time Samantha woke late the next morning, George w as New Earth's defacto Leader. First order of business for "King George" had been a complete rearrangement of her work load. After the living nightmare of the latest assassination attempt, George imperiously pulled Samantha off her bomb making duties in an ineffective attempt to get her emotional and physical stress levels down to a healthy, manageable level. So per George, all she had to worry about was the baby she was cooking and the twins.

Well, ok, that wasn't the way he put it. But still, everyone kept telling her to focus on Emma and the twins because the emotional pressure and strain she was experiencing wasn't good for her or them.

It didn't work, naturally.

Because even if you did take away her dual roles of being both Leslie Groves and J. Robert Oppenheimer in New Earth's version of the Manhattan Project, it still left her in the apartment with George.

Yeah, George.

Along with George in her apartment, there was her father.

Janet.

Chekov.

Plus Malcolm, Abby and Hannah, who were stress inducing just because they were six months old and requiring frequent feedings, round the clock diaper changings and assorted baby stuff. But on those rare, quiet moments where she was cuddling both Hannah and Abby, it made all those sleepless nights worthwhile.

George never really bothered her, to be honest. He was occupied running New Earth, while her father was making increasingly frequent appearances from his locked room. Samantha often found herself in tears from the tension in the apartment that was so thick she could breathe it. George was by all appearances becoming saner by the day, or else she was getting crazier by the minute.

Her father's brutal attack had done something…unexpected… unhoped for… and certainly unasked to George Hammond.

It had jumpstarted George's sanity.

Janet had explained it to her, but Samantha wasn't a biochemist, she couldn't fathom why the use of a hand device had jumpstarted George's serotonin and norepinephrine levels and why his p11 protein levels were increasing. Nor could she ask Janet why George's returning sanity was a **_good_** thing.

Yes, Janet was bubbly and happy because she had jury-rigged some sort molecular catalyst to duplicate the effect on Jacob and Selmak. Every day, George, Selmak and Jacob dutifully lined up for their shots and the application of a hand device, and every day, Samantha worried about the moment when George would look in her direction and decide that he wanted husbandly relations with his wife.

The fear grew and grew, sapping her emotional strength, leaving her physically exhausted and emotionally spent.

Some days, it took all Samantha's energy just to feed her girls.

Yet she always managed to feed her girls and clothe them. George was very much hands with his daughters, cleaning, feeding and burping them without a complaint, but she was their mother. And dammit, mothers **_always_** took care of their children. Yet sometimes when George was feeding the girls, Samantha was content to sit on the couch, resting her hand against her belly. After she had the twins, she knew what to expect, and so she found herself enjoying many aspects of her pregnancy. Well, she wouldn't ever claim that she desired to keep her new burgeoning figure on a permanent basis; Samantha loved every inch of her earth mother goddess figure.

The first time she felt Emma stir within her, Samantha had wept, overwhelmed with the love she felt for her daughter. At that moment, it didn't matter to her who the baby's father was, or what he had done to her, or that she had a queen symbiote in her belly, she had been overjoyed that her daughter had quickened. For the first few months of her pregnancy, Sam had been petrified that due to the ungodly amount of stress that she was enduring, that she'd miscarry Emma.

Among other surprises, Gregor Chekov began subtly taking over various responsibilities, in attempt to create some sort of harmony and accord among the various factions of the fractured Carter-Fraiser-Hammond household. He became George's defacto aide-de-camp, and it wasn't unusual to find him bottle feeding one of the children, crooning a soft Russian lullaby or having an energetic conversation to the babies in Russian.

Emma and Hannah had no idea what he was saying, but his tone was light and expressive and the girls seemed delighted. Malcolm, having the benefit of a Cold War Era Dad, was less thrilled with the Russian. Chekov had apparently taken upon on the position of a paternal uncle, Dyadya Gregori, and by all accounts he seemed to be truly enjoying the role.

Maybe Chekov staying in their apartment was a way of controlling her. Over the years, her father had drilled the idea that under no circumstances did his family appear less than perfect to outsiders, and Chekov, for all of his help, was an outsider.

Time passed, and her father and Selmak became more assertive in running New Earth. He began spending more and more time outside of his locked room, making appearances whenever she least expected it. Her father tried talking to her on far too many occasions, attempting to apologize for what he had done to her and what she had experienced because of him, but she brushed aside his apologies.

"Are you ok?" He asked one day. His voice was full of a fatherly concern she couldn't and wouldn't trust. "You look so tired and pale. Are you resting enough?"

"I'm pregnant," she snippily retorted, as she patted her belly for good measure. "It's part of the process. I get tired easier these days."

"Isn't George helping you with the girls?" Her father grew angry. "I know he's trying to give you space, but that's NO excuse for leaving you with the girls…"

"He is, Dad," she protested. "I'm just exhausted. George fed the girls today, got them dressed and let me sleep late. But I'm still exhausted."

"Ok, I have good news for you," her father gave her a slight smile. "Your apartment is almost done. I have the designs here, and you can add the finishing touches to make it yours. Come, let's talk about it."

The two of them sat down at the kitchen table. In the background, she could hear George talking in a deep, tender soft voice to Abby, sincerely assuring her that no matter what her sister said, she was the most beautiful girl in the world to him. He had said the very same thing to Hannah a few minutes earlier, and Samantha shook her head, feeling much like Alice in Wonderland where sanity and rationality had gone topsy turvy and downsides up.

Except in her case, it was closer Samantha in Hell with the King of Hearts running amuck and decapitating everyone.

Her father unrolled the blue prints and he began explaining. Samantha blinked and tried to focus on the diagrams.

"This is George's apartment. He'll be here," her father explained. He pointed to another set of rooms. "You and the girls will live here. There will be four bedrooms located on this side of the living room. One for you, Hannah and Abby and then Emma. On the other side, there will be two rooms for your nannies. Janet's discussed that with you?"

"No," Samantha answered. "She has not."

"Well, Janet is interviewing nannies for you. We think that you will need two."

For a moment, Samantha looked at the blueprints. Her suite was several hallways away from George's apartment. She glanced at father and questioned, "George's…."

"He's **_not_** living with you. He and I discussed the matter, and I don't want him living with you," Jake said that firmly. "But in all fairness, I have to admit that it was his suggestion to have his apartment away from yours. George and I have noticed how tense you are living with him and me, and both of us want you to relax and have a healthy baby. That's the most important thing right now. We want you healthy and stress free especially since the trial will be starting soon."

"Isn't that so nice of you," Samantha dryly retorted. "You and George have made enough decisions in my life recently. In case you've forgotten, you're the one that thought it would be a great idea for me to marry him. Do you need to be reminded how **_well_** that idea worked?"

Her father inhaled quickly and he nodded his head. It was obvious that Samantha's caustic comment was an emotional bull's eye that had hurt Jacob deeply. For a horrifying moment, Samantha realized that she relished emotionally scoring on her father. For that instant, she had been in control and no one would be able to harm her.

"Yes, I know that I really fucked up with that idea. And I am deeply sorry for that," her father softly admitted. "That's why I want to keep George as far away from you and the girls as possible. I don't want the four of you together without someone there to keep an eye on him."

Samantha's heart skipped a beat when she heard that last comment.

"The girls? You're planning on keeping George away from the girls?"

"Yes," Jacob admitted. "It's better for all. After you divorce him, you're getting sole custody of the girls…"

"I'm divorcing him?" Samantha questioned.

On one hand, yes, she wanted George Hammond the hell out of her life, but on the other hand, she could control George due to his collar. If George wasn't around, the nannies being picked out by her step-mother would probably keep a very strict eye on her, limiting her chances at discovering a way home.

_If you found a way home, would you go? Would you risk losing your children?_ Her conscience nagged at her.

_BUT I haven't even found out how I got here, let alone how I can get home!_

"You can't seriously expect me to believe that you **_want_** to stay married to him, Sammy," her father protested.

"I should be allowed to make that particular decision regarding my marriage," she exclaimed. "I need to speak to him about it. The decision will be between the two of us, not between the **_two of you."_**

"Be careful," her father warned.

"I will be," she assured him. Her voice was steady, and then she decided to interfere in her father's marriage. Turn about was fair play, after all. "Now, don't you think you should spend some time with Janet?"

"I do," he admitted. "But I wanted to talk to you first. You're my daughter, and I've been such a lousy father all these years, while Janet's only had to put up with me for a few years."

"Go spend some time with Janet, Dad. I'm sure she's missed you," ordered Samantha.

* * *

Janet lay curled and content in her husband's arms in their afterglow. The feeling of some sense of normalcy had been something she had longed for and didn't want it to fade away anytime soon. She never wanted to spend a night alone in their bed again. When Jacob had held his hand out to her and gave her **_that_** sideways look, she had pounced, dragging him to their bed. Later on, if Jacob teased her, she'd blame her sexual aggressiveness on her hormones. Pregnant women need plenty of loving, especially when they had reached the state of being unable to see their ankles.

"What's wrong?" Jacob asked when she snuggled closer, pulling the covers over them both.

"I just missed both of you, that's all." Janet admitted that softly.

Jacob sighed heavily, his arm pulling her tightly into his chest.

"Thank Sammy for tonight. She's the one that reminded me that I've been neglecting you. I'm sorry, Janet…for everything. I've completely failed you as a husband and as a father."

"You were **_sick_**…"

"That's no excuse. It's not an excuse for what George did to my daughter. And it's certainly not an excuse for what I did to George….to Sam…to you and Malcolm."

Janet stroked his face, smiling, "I know you Jacob…you won't make the same mistake again. I have faith in you, my love."

Her husband gave her a crooked smile, before he gave her a long kiss. He softly laughed and then gave his wife a fond though crooked smile, "Do you always have to be so damn optimistic?"

"Do you always have to be **_such_** a sourpuss?" Janet snickered. "Sourpuss doesn't even begin to describe you. You're crotchety, grumpy, irritable, irascible …"

Janet continued to tease her husband and her descriptions went far, far beyond sourpuss.

"No," he seriously answered. "I wouldn't want Malcolm and Marty to think that of their father."

"Marty?" she questioned. "I thought you didn't like the name Martin."

Jacob smiled warmly, his hand possessively caressing her round belly.

"I was teasing you. Of course, you can name our son Martin after your father. Selmak also likes Martin because she wanted to pay tribute to Martouf like what we did with Malek. Two of her closest friends…their namesakes can live on in our sons Malcolm and Martin. Both of whom I sincerely hope inherit their mother's optimism rather than being a sourpuss like their old man."

"Mal and Marty…I like how they sound," Janet admitted with a giggle.

They kissed again, and then Jake sighed.

"Is my kissing that bad?" Janet teased.

"No, it's Samantha. What the hell is she thinking? George and I figured that she'd do a jig upon finding out that George suggested a divorce." Jake's tone gave voice to his perplexedly.

"I think she wants some control over her life," Janet explained.

* * *

George had seemed surprised that she wished to speak to him. So after everyone was in their respective bedrooms, the Hammonds had their meeting. Sam sat at the kitchen table, her hand resting on her Zat. To her surprise, George put a small jewelry box on the table, on top of an envelope. He stood at the opposite end of the table, and she motioned for him to take a seat.

"I had an interesting conversation with my father," Samantha decided it would be best to be blunt. Now, of all days, she needed to be in control, and decide how she wanted to proceed.

_Keep him off balance. Don't let him take control of the conversation. Once he does, you're not getting it back. _

"The paperwork's in the envelope. Sign it and you'll be free of me," he advised her softly. "Make what changes you want, and I'll sign off on the changes."

"If I said that you could only have supervised visits with our daughters, you'd agree?" Samantha questioned.

"Yes," George quickly agreed.

His assent was lighting quick; and Samantha tried not to show her unease about what she was planning. She might need her Zat in the new few minutes, but first, she needed to appear in control.

Calm.

Assertive.

Not fearful.

She was in control.

She was **_NOT_** a victim.

"What if I said that you couldn't see them ever?" Samantha decided to press the issue.

"I'd sign it…" That admission was slowly voiced by George.

"If I said that you're not allowed any information on your daughters? No pictures, no contact. When Emma's born, you won't be there in the room. In fact, you won't be told when she is born. Janet and my father will give you no information on Emma or the twins. If the children ever ask, I'll tell them, with extreme delight, that their bastard of a father is dead."

George swallowed and nodded his head.

"Don't nod your head, George," Samantha snapped. "I need to hear you verbalize your understanding."

"I'd say that you're being a good mother," he whispered that softly. "But you won't even allow me a single picture of Emma?"

"No," she stated firmly.

In a miserable attempt to hide his tears in his lone eye from her, George roughly wiped at his eye with his hand, before he gave a nod of his head, non-verbally agreeing to her demands and conditions. Unexpectedly uneasy with his emotional response and truly surprised that George had remained moderately calm and composed during their exchange, Samantha opened the envelope after pushing the jewelry box away from her.

Placing the papers on the table, she began to read.

"I don't know why you'd want a picture. You've never asked about her after one of my exams," Samantha coldly snapped. "You're not a very concerned father, George."

"I was hoping you'd let me know if everything was ok with her," George said in a very soft tone. "I really wanted to go with you to your checkups… but I thought… you lying on your back with me standing over you…it wouldn't be a good thing…"

Her mind flashed to that thought. Lying defenseless on the exam table for her prenatal checkup, what with George standing over her, she knew that she'd be terrified… Samantha tried to keep her composure as she savagely crushed that mental nightmare into submission.

_I will not be controlled. I will not be a victim. _

He looked at her, his lone eye overflowing with tears.

"I thought that experience would be exceptionally traumatic for you and Emma. I wanted to question Janet, but I figured you had told her not to let me know anything. I told you that in this situation, you make the rules, and I'll follow them."

"How downright surprisingly decent of you, George," Samantha retorted, enjoying his flinch at her sarcasm. "Is this a bribe?"

She pointed at the jewelry box.

"No," he softly responded. "I saw it, and thought of you. That's all."

She reached for it and opened the box. There were two lever back earrings made of bright sapphires in the box.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"They're butterfly earrings. Butterflies are free to fly, fly away, high away." George quoted the lyrics quietly. "I saw them, and thought of you. I won't leash you anymore. Fly free, Samantha."

Snorting her disbelief at his schmaltz, Samantha then began reading the paperwork, one hand still possessively cradling the Zat. She began crossing out various things and scribbling various addendums. When Samantha was done, she read her corrections and nodded her head in satisfaction. She then pushed the papers toward George with her free hand.

"Read them thoroughly and then sign them," Samantha ordered calmly. "I don't want you having a temper tantrum because you didn't read them thoroughly."

George began reading her corrections, and he stopped in mid-read. She tried not to smile when he began to haltingly speak.

"Can I say goodbye to them at least?" His quivering voice was low and soft, not the harsh tone she had feared.

"No," Samantha denied that request with all the conviction of a trial judge sentencing Adolph Hitler to the electric chair. "I don't want you waking them. They're sleeping. You don't get a final goodbye to Abby, Hannah or Austin. My father said your rooms are ready, and you're to go there after I sign the paperwork. Your stuff will be sent over later."

George didn't say another word, he just continued reading, even while his one hand began to kneed and massage his facial scars. After he had rubbed his face raw and he was done reading the documents, Hammond autographed the paperwork hastily with a barely legible scrawl. Then he pushed the signed papers back toward Samantha.

"You're free now. I have one request which I hope you will allow. I have some pictures of Abby and Hannah among my belongings. Plus a few pictures of Austin. May I **_please_** keep them at least?"

"No," she said. "I shouldn't have to remind you that addendum number five that you just signed deals with the fact that you will not be allowed any pictures of the girls or Austin."

Hammond rocked back in his chair as though Samantha had physically struck him, and she tried to squelch that uneasy feeling in her belly at how effortlessly she was wounding him. He inhaled quickly, and then George nodded his head. "Photos don't do the girls justice, anyway. I'll go to my rooms after you sign this."

Samantha took the paperwork, folded it in half, and she placed them into the envelope unsigned.

"George, I didn't sign the paperwork. Technically, we're still married," Samantha informed him. "The decision on whether or not I sign and you never see your daughters again depends completely and utterly on you now."

"Sign them, you'll be safer without me," he protested.

Drumming her fingers on the table, Samantha wondered about her new found sadistic streak. She was enjoying her chance to further break the shattered Hammond, relishing it entirely too much.

_Had been this the way it had started for George? A chance for an aching soul to inflict pain on another person? A small comment here? A caustic sentence there…. What had been the point of no return for Hammond? _

_And what is **my** point of no return?_

"But if you're around, I know who my jailer is," Samantha explained. "I know who is keeping an eye on me. I know who is supposed to make sure I stay in line."

Barking a bitter laugh, she squashed down a sick icky, entirely too gleeful feeling in her backbone after she noticed Hammond was looking uneasy… ok… scared **_fuckless_** over the thought of losing her… his… **_their_** children and Austin forever and ever, world with out end, amen.

Not allowing him even a single, solitary photo of his children had been a stroke of absolute genius.

To refuse him a photo of his beloved dog was nothing more than a long, slow painful twist of the knife.

"There's some new rules in our relationship, Georgie," Samantha explained. "You touch me, you're dead. You look at me the wrong way, you're dead. I even think you're getting off on the idea of what happened between us, I will **_execute _**you where you stand."

"You can stay in the apartment with me. You'll have your own room, as far away from my room as possible. You will not step foot into my bedroom. **_Ever_**. You'll get to see your girls and we'll pretend to one and to all that I'm giving you another chance, a possibility for you to get back into my good graces. You will fully and publicly acknowledge that you do not deserve such an opportunity as it's one that you have **_not_** earned."

"And for the record, there's no way in hell that I'll ever feel anything but disgust and hatred for you, George."

"And what do you get out of it?" George softly questioned. "Besides knowing your jailer?"

"What we discussed when you were in the padded room. Do you remember? I get to figure out how I got here, and how possibly to get home. You won't tell my father. You won't tell Janet. You will not tell anyone, George. You ever want to see your daughters and Austin again? This is the only way."

George nodded his head in a weary acceptance.

"I agree."

"Wonderful. When Dad and Janet wake up, we'll tell them the happy news that you're crawling through broken glass to absolve your sins. I'm sure that they'll be **_quite_** surprised," Samantha said in a very faux cheerful tone.

"No where near as astounded as I am," George mumbled softly in a voice she obviously was not meant to hear.

* * *

Her father and Janet hadn't been surprised; they had been so stunned that they could have been knocked over by a feather when Samantha advised them that she and George weren't divorcing. No, instead the honeymooners wanted to move into their own apartment as soon as possible.

"George and I will be trying to salvage our marriage for the sake of the girls," Samantha explained, the lie coming unexpectedly easily to her lips. "It will be easier if we're not in your way."

Her father's eyes darted from her to George and back to her again plainly wondering who had turned her into a Pod Person, even while a too stunned to be polite Janet mouthed, **_"WHAT?"_**

"I admit that I don't deserve a second chance," George declared slowly.

**_You think?_** Sam sarcastically thought.

"But for the girls, I'd do **_anything_**," he continued.

Her father glared at George, and he put one finger on George's chest. Samantha watched as her father stared into George's lone eye. The two men glared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Then Jacob smiled. It was a cold, emotionless smile.

"You hurt her again, you'll wish you **_didn't_**," Jacob said. His smile never left his face, but the ominous threat was still there.

"I hurt her again, I **_better_** be dead," retorted George. "Samantha knows how to work the collar. I so much as raise my voice with her, I expect her to use it."

George turned and looked at her.

"Isn't that right?" George questioned.

"Absolutely," Samantha assured him. "Any sign of trouble and you're dead, George. But don't worry Dad, George has promised me that he'll be a good boy."

* * *

It took time, no doubt helped with multiple delays from her father wanting 'nothing less than the absolute best' for his daughter, but in a few weeks, Samantha and her dysfunctional family moved into their new apartment. That first day in her new apartment, she gave George a list of instructions on what he could and couldn't do, and she made damn sure about the line in the sand.

She stood in the doorway of her bedroom. George was standing a few feet away from her. The girls were sleeping peacefully in the nursery, and it was just her, George and Austin.

"You can't go past this door," she explained. "This is my bedroom. No one is allowed there. You're **_never_** to be in there."

"I understand," he assured her.

Austin butted his head against George's knee. George reached down and scratched the dog's head. The first smile she had seen on George's face all day appeared as Austin licked George's face.

"Austin's allowed in there, I hope?" George questioned.

"Yes, Austin's allowed in my room."

"Good. I want him to stay with you at night. He'll guard you," he decided. "Better to have a biological guard along with all the other bells and whistles."

She snorted in disbelief, and George gave her a questioning glance.

"Will Austin defend me against you? That's what I'm most worried about," she snapped.

"Austin, go to the living room," ordered George.

The Rottie ran into the living room and plopped himself on the couch.

"He answers commands in Goa'uld, Samantha," George explained. "I've told you that."

After George confirmed that Austin was in the living room, he then began to dryly list the assorted commands for Samantha to use. He spoke very quietly so to ensure that Austin wouldn't here.

"The most important one is this. He's trained to kill using the command 'AUSTIN SHA'LOK'. Sha'lok is short for Sha'lokma'kor. You say that to Austin, he'll rip my throat out."

Samantha shuddered at the matter of fact tone in which George was discussing Austin killing him, and George laughed softly. It was a mocking laugh, and her anger flared a new.

"You think it's **_funny_**? If I need to, I'll have Austin do it," Samantha insisted. "I'm not your victim. I refuse to be your victim anymore, Hammond."

"Easy, I'm not laughing at you. Laughing at myself," he explained.

"What's so **_damn_** funny?"

"You're too compassionate for your own good, Samantha. I was just thinking, how's that for irony? That the dog I trained to defend me may end up killing me. It's funny." George then laughed again. "It is. I am warning you now that you better put Austin down after he rips my throat out. I'm not sure how he'll react to you and the girls after killing me. He might be fine, and he might not be."

"Get out of my sight," she growled. She turned into her bedroom, and closed the door behind her. But she could still hear George talking to Austin, and exclaiming what a good dog the Rottie was.

"You're such a good dog!" George assured the Rottie. "You'll defend Samantha at all costs, won't you, boy?"

* * *

The next few weeks were uneventful for Samantha. She remained isolated in her ivory tower, cut off from most of New Earth. Her only visitor was Janet, and the two commiserated on the various aches and pains and assorted discomforts of being pregnant. Left undiscussed was the upcoming trial for Elizabeth Weir and her cronies.

But when Janet wasn't there, Samantha's days consisted mainly of resting, her feet up on a chair, while she doodled and scribbled about various possible reasons why she was here. Surrounded by star charts, reports on various solar events, Samantha often found herself dozing in the afternoon, her hand stroking Austin who delighted in resting his head on her growing bump. Had it been only a few years ago, where she had been able to rattle some esoteric and arcane astrophysical formula off the top of her head to explain away the latest SGC crisis?

Why weren't even the most basic of scientific formulas making sense?

Was it the baby brain drain? Why couldn't she think?

One afternoon she woke up breathless, after having an all too realistic nightmare where she returned home to the SGC and her children had disappeared due to a temporal tautology or a paradigm paradox of some sort, leaving her with nothing but painful memories.

No Emma, No Abby, No Hannah… no SG1… just her, standing on the gate ramp, shaking and trembling as a concerned George Hammond walked out to greet the sole remains of his lead team. Hammond had reached out to her, a gentle touch on her shoulder and she had screamed and screamed until her voice broke. Siler had pulled her off George while she had been gouging and scratching him, hitting his unresisting form even as she screamed and raved like a mad woman.

"What am I doing?" Samantha wondered. "If I go home, what happens to the girls? What happens to you, my prince of a dog, even though you have truly atrocious dog breath?"

Samantha sighed and she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I love Emma and I love the twins… I can't go back…"

Austin licked her face and Samantha gave her dog a good scratch.

"You're such a good dog, Austin. Let's go get you some ice cream, eh? I know Emma needs some calcium," Samantha decided.

The Rottie jumped off her bed and waited for her to extricate herself from the bed. When she was upright and standing, it took a few minutes for Emma to settle down.

"I'm getting up for **_you_**," Samantha told her belly. "You don't need to kick so much."

Then she began walking down the hallway toward the kitchen with an eager Austin closely following. She heard voices in the living room and she stopped. There were people in the apartment? It had been just her and the girls before she had gotten drowsy.

Instincts flared, and she paused in the hallway. Where was her Zat? Damn it, she had left the weapon on the nightstand!

"The answer is 'NO!'" Jacob insisted. "There's no way in hell that I'm letting you **_leave_** New Earth."

Samantha relaxed for a moment, thinking that this was only a conversation between Jacob and George that she wasn't meant to overhear. Well, she was quite content to let the boys have their little mano a mano chit-chat, and so she decided to retreat to her bedroom. It would be far more comfortable napping in her bed than on the couch anyway.

"When the trial's over, give me a sept of Super Solidiers and a fast ship," George insisted.

"No. It's a fool's mission, George. It's almost 100 certain that it's a one way trip," Jake retorted. "Why the **_hell_** should I send you out there?"

"I need to find SG1," George insisted. "Let me find their bodies, bring them home for a proper burial."

Samantha stopped, as she needed to hear this conversation. SG1? George wanted to find **_SG1?_**

There was a pause in the conversation, and then Samantha heard her father sigh.

"SG1?" Jacob questioned. "SG1, George?"

"Yes, I need to bring their bodies home," George repeated. "It's long past time, Jacob."

"In case you haven't noticed, George, Samantha is exceedingly pregnant plus there are these two kids under the age of twelve months," her father retorted. "I thought you two had decided to work on your marriage, George."

"In case you haven't noticed," George snapped back in a fair impersonation of her father. "Samantha's stress level is sky high."

"So you think leaving her alone with two kids is going to make things **_easier_** for her?"

"**_YES_**," George stated firmly.

"I thought you two were working on your marriage? **_Remember_**?" Her father retorted.

"It might prove helpful in our matrimonial reconciliation if Samantha stops believing that you and I deliberately sent SG1 off to die, Jacob." George snapped. "Every time she looks at us, Jacob, there's nothing but incrimination in her eyes. She believes that we **_deliberately_** executed SG1."

"What? She thinks **_that_**?" Jacob snapped. "Who gave her that idea? **_Siler_**?"

"Gentlemen…" Chekov interrupted them and then started coughing. When he stopped coughing, he continued, "I believe I have the solution to your problem. Let me take a sept of super soldiers and a fast ship, and I'll look for them."

"Greg…" Her father and George's voices merged into one as they protested in unison.

"I'll go after the trial. After all in four or so months, whether I go or not, I'll be doing the same thing," Chekov then barked a rough laugh. "Might as well do something constructive before then."

The three men began disagreeing, and Samantha fled back to her room.

* * *

A few weeks later:

Samantha was tired, physically and emotionally exhausted. The trial of Elizabeth Weir, John Sheppard and their various accomplices which had started off quickly with their ready admission of guilt, now seemed to be never-ending. Day after day, she had to listen to the minutest of details on **_why_** they had wanted to kill her and her children and the various methods the saboteurs had discussed. Her father and George had pleaded with her not to be in the courtroom for this part of the trial, but every day she attended, her hands cradling Emma protectively, trying to comprehend why the rebels had wanted to kill her daughters.

George had urged her to lie down and rest after the latest court session where she had painstaking detailed each and every moment of their attack on her and her children, and she had agreed. Emma was resting on her sciatic nerve and she wanted nothing more than the chance to ease her painful back. Samantha first took a warm shower before she went to her bed.

She was exhausted, and she was hoping that she'd be able to sleep through the night. Naturally, the best laid plans of one Samantha Carter went completely astray.

Instead of a complimentary chocolate on her pillow, she found a **_note_**.

Automatically, she flinched, her stomach twisting in a knot, her heart skipping in assorted unsynchronized palpitations, all the while wondering who the hell had gotten into the room that was purportedly sacrosanct, her safe harbor against the horrors of New Earth. George had assured her that he'd **_never_** set foot in the room, and up until now; he had kept his solemn pledge, never stepping over the threshold into the room.

No one was allowed in her bedroom, well, except for her daughters and Austin.

Not even Janet was granted access to her private sanctum. Yet there it was; a note on her pillow.

Why would Hammond break his vow now?

Lately, he was almost Herculean in endeavoring to get back into her good graces.

No, Herculean wasn't the right word, she thought. There wasn't a single overwhelming, soul staggering heroic act of contrition; it was a thousand and one small little actions that she wouldn't have noticed, except for the fact that she was terrified of what George wanted. Fresh flowers every few days, the minute a blossom showed the faintest sign of decay or a bloom dropped a petal, the flowers were replaced by fresh, new flowers. Bright, cheery toys for the girls, new clothes for her and the girls and even a new dog bone shaped pillow for Austin had shown up.

The flowers left her uneasy but Austin had delightedly dragged the bone pillow next to her bed, and that's where he slept. The Rottie was getting older, and he no longer regularly jumped up on her bed, which was just fine and dandy for her because he had a tendency of sprawling and taking over most of the space in the bed.

Flowers, clothes, jewelry?

What the hell was George trying to do? Bribe his way back into her good graces? Or worse than that, was George trying to get back into her bed? There were times when she caught him staring at her, a strange, almost hungry, inconsolable look in his eye and she remembered how fervent a lover he had been when she had been pregnant with Abby and Hannah.

Hammond had been hands on, delighting and relishing in her changing body, and now, as part of their agreement, he never touched her. On those moments when their eyes met, she had to fight to bite back the urge to scream the words that would cause the Collar to kill him.

Christ, she had even accidentally overheard George requesting Jacob send him on a fool's mission to find the bodies of Sg1, a near certain one way trip, just so she wouldn't have to see him until after she gave birth. Her father had refused, yet George had protested fiercely, claiming that his disappearance would be for Samantha's own psychological, emotional and physical health.

George loved Abby and Hannah, as George brightened up when he saw them. That was her only control over George, the looming, omnipresent threat of taking his children and Austin from him. At this very moment, George and the girls were busy playing in the living room and Austin was deftly overseeing the fun. When she had left the room, George had been telling them a story about two little girls and a Rottie named Austin, complete with copious sound affects and silly faces and the girls had been delighted. She had watched them for a bit, wishing she could trust the new George… old… George… this George… whoever the hell it was….

Thinking of Emma, the baby she was carrying, Samantha decided to lie down on the bed. She rolled onto her side, loving caressed her belly and thought calm, reassuring thoughts. Fortunately, Emma was downright easygoing, content to be peacefully floating in her mother's womb. Considering all the tension she was under, Samantha felt quite delighted that her daughter was calm, rather than brutally punching and viciously kicking the entire nine months.

Carefully, Samantha slit the envelope open, and she pulled the letter out. For a moment, she thought the letter might be an assassination attempt, the thin paper within the envelope coated in a biological weapon such as anthrax…. but… thinking of a knife hidden behind every smile was a certain one way trip to madness. Besides, if they really wanted her dead, she would be.

They wouldn't leave her a note.

**_REMEMBER WHAT WE DISCUSSED. HM_**

Oh God, Harry Maybourne had just reminded her of her assurances on Weir and her cronies.

The entire group of them was to be sentenced in a few days….no… **_TOMORROW. _**She had been the last on the witness stand, and since Weir and the rest had already pleaded guilty, tomorrow was the punishment phase of the trial.

Samantha crumbled the note in her hand, and then threw it toward the trash can. By some fluke, she actually made a basket, and she sighed. Dear God, she was so tired, yet she had promised Maybourne….

* * *

Hannah went to sleep easily, but Abby, she was fussing something fierce. George carefully rocked his daughter while softly humming a tune before she at last fell asleep in his arms, and so he very cautiously put her into her crib.

She's coming down with a cold, he thought with concern. Maybe he'd ask Janet to check Abby tomorrow. Janet would gently chide him as the overprotective, medic-harassing father that he knew himself to be, but Abby was fussin', and it might be the beginning of an ear infection. Probably best to get it nipped in the bud, just so Samantha would hopefully not have the stress of having a sick daughter on top of the literal pyramid of pressure and strain that she already endured daily. He brooded on that thought for a bit, knowing that he was guilty forever and ever, world without end, for the stress she was experiencing and then George decided to take his dark thoughts out of his children's nursery as thinking gloomy thoughts around the girls violated Rules of Sanity #3.

Ever since his mental breakthrough, he had been taking baby steps toward regaining his sanity. There were various assorted rules and rituals he had created while he was in lock up; ones he repeated mentally until they were seared into his shattered psyche. If Mack, the shrink of the SGC had actually made it off world, no doubt he'd be shaking his head before quacking disapprovingly that George was replacing one psychosis for another. Which was worse, the never ending despair of that soul sapping depression combined with that ungodly, inhuman rage or being Obsessive-Compulsive, using rituals, repetition and the highly regimented Rules of Sanity to calm the inner beast?

_**Wait. **_

Rule of Appearing Sane #1, a subsection of Rules of Sanity, demanded that he appear carefree, as though he were NOT to be walking on a high wire, a thousand miles above the ground without a net, waiting to lose his balance and fall.

Austin followed him out of the room, and he felt like smiling. At least there was something… no… some **_one_** … on New Earth that didn't want him strung up.

**_Rule of Sanity #1 – there was no redemption for someone like him. No one cared for him. Everyone viewed him as the scarred freakish monster he truly was. They'd dance a jig if he was assassinated, yet he had to stay alive, because without him, Samantha, Abigail, Hannah, Emma… they'd be slaughtered. Not even Austin would escape the butcher's knife, because Austin had proven his loyalty to him over and over again on the bodies of the insurgents. _**

Dear God, even the innocent animals were caught up in mankind's desperate struggle to stay one inch ahead of the enemy.

It was enough to make him break down and sob, but once the first tear was shed, he'd never be able to stop.

Instinctively, the Rottie knew that he was feeling emotional shaky. Austin butted his large head against George's knee, and then licked George's fingers. His physical love dispensed the dog then sat down and gazed up at Hammond. Those dark soulful eyes that were looking through him, accepting him as a flawed, train wreck of a man, but still, for some reason, loving him away

"Austin, want some ice cream?" George asked, wanting to somehow reward the dog. Austin then wiggled his doggie butt in excited anticipation as the dog **_loved_** ice cream. "Don't tell your mom that I'm letting you have dessert."

The Rottie was the smartest damn dog he had ever known besides being his only friend. Sometimes, looking at Austin, George could remember clearly happier times, like when his granddaughters had decided that Grandpa had **_needed_** to take them out for the afternoon for some Grandpa/Granddaughters bonding. That cheerful afternoon had passed swiftly, as first it had been a movie, then pizza at that place with the singing Rodent, and then Kayla and Tessa had begged and pleaded to go to the pet store. Naturally, he had quickly agreed to their wishes, and that's when he had met a very small Rottie puppy by the name of Austin who was a 'death row' adoption. He had agreed to adopt Austin then and there, in the hopes of having something to fill his off-duty hours with something besides an overwhelming guilt that SG1 had died for naught.

Lord, if anything happened to that ugly dog, he lose his last, tenuous connection to his granddaughters… and he was apprehensive that his hard fought for sanity was too brittle to handle that loss.

George took out the ice cream from the freezer, making sure it was just plain, dog safe vanilla, and then gave Austin a heaping spoonful into his bowl. Austin gave him a sad look, plainly disbelieving that his much loved master was being almost cattily chintzy with the ice cream. George shook his head, and then gave Austin another spoonful after chastising Austin by calling him a very spoiled dog. The Rottie, satisfied that at last his most benevolent owner was being generous in his dolloping out of the forbidden frozen treat, began slurping at the ice cream with an almost puppy like eagerness.

Hammond sat down at the kitchen island and then he heard the shuffling of feet. George looked up and was greatly surprised that it was Samantha who was in the kitchen with him.

"Is that the last of the ice cream?" Her voice was quite soft and he had to strain to hear it.

"Yes, do you want some? I thought you were tired, and planning on going to bed early," Hammond didn't look at her, which was Rule # 5**_. Never look directly at Samantha, never get too close. NEVER TOUCH HER. Don't even think about it, airman! Especially now, when she was pregnant!_**

Rule # 5 was the hardest one to follow. He couldn't help watching her and that burgeoning belly. The urge to put his hand on her belly to feel Emma move was overwhelming at times, especially when Samantha winced, stopped what she was doing and deliberately placed her hands on her belly. Samantha would then smile… **_happily_**… as she **_loved_** Emma.

In spite of the doomed bastard that had fathered Emma, Samantha still loved their daughter.

Oh God, those moments were the few times he thanked the God he had long stopped believing in. For Samantha to be able to **_love_** their daughter… it was a miracle he didn't deserve.

Damn it, she was **_six_** months pregnant and the girls weren't even nine months yet. George had haltingly voiced that ugly question but Samantha had assured him that Emma **_wasn't_** a product of that horrible event. Most men would be reassured, but since he couldn't deliberately recollect Samantha **_willingly_** being intimate with him before or especially **_AFTER_** the twins had been born. There were wisps of tattered swiss cheesed reminiscences that said Samantha **_might_** be telling him the truth, but the memories tore apart like cotton candy if he dared to look at them too thoroughly.

The phantom pain in long missing left eye flared anew, and he began carefully to massage his left temple.

"Yes, I wanted to get to sleep early, but Emma has a craving for some ice cream," Samantha replied.

* * *

Samantha couldn't get comfortable and she couldn't sleep as her mind was racing, wondering how the hell Harry Maybourne had gotten into her bedroom. Sleep was a lost cause, she finally decided and she had a craving for some cool, sweet vanilla ice cream. Not too much, as she'd hate to lose her girlish figure…She bit back a laugh at that sardonic comment.

To her intense unease, George apparently had the same idea, and even Austin was enjoying ice cream. For a moment, she wanted to flee from the kitchen and return to the safety of her bedroom, but she told herself that running away **_only_** gave him power over her. He was wearing the silver collar; she could kill him at any moment, so…Samantha inwardly steadied herself and asked if there was any ice cream left.

George looked at her, then looked away before answering her. He started rubbing the left side of his face, a gesture that spoke loudly of his uneasiness. It was almost funny, as George never looked at her, never touched her and rarely spoke to her. It was almost comical how that he was afraid of **_HER_**.

Hammond wasn't so much afraid of 'Death by Collar' … but simply **_terrified_** of her.

He began scooping out the ice cream for her, and when there was a literal snowy mountain of ice cream in the bowl, he hesitantly slid the bowl toward her.

"Hot fudge?" George questioned, as he threw the empty carton into the trash. He walked over to the fridge and opened it, inspecting what was inside of it. "Sprinkles?"

"No," Samantha answered.

He sat down again, and she realized that there was only one bowl of ice cream.

"Weren't you having some?" Samantha asked.

"Not enough for three, only enough for two." George explained, and then quickly began expanding on his explanation, as though he thought she and her belly might be offended by that comment. "You know Austin, you…"

"I can't eat all that," she protested.

"Austin will help," George retorted softly.

To her surprise, as George normally fled from her appearance, George remained sitting at the island while she eating the cold ice cream. He began rubbing his hands, and then he spoke.

"Think Abigail might be coming down with a cold," he rumbled. "She was fussin' something fierce when she went to bed, so I'll ask Janet to look at her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, we have the trial," she reminded him.

He gave a snort of disgust at her single-mindedness and he shook his head, "Abby's health is far more important. If necessary, the sentencing can be postponed."

"Their sentencing is tomorrow, George," Samantha reminded him.

"I know that," he retorted softly, his voice free of venom. It was just a simple response but his lack of emotion was chilling.

"Have you and my father decided…" she paused before continuing. "What their punishment will be?"

"According to Jaffa law, they're to be hung," he stated in that flat unemotional voice that scared her shitless. "They were caught red-handed, and they confessed that they were trying to kill you, Abigail and Hannah, and Emma. Janet, Jacob and your brothers were also on their list. What other sentencing would you really consider? Do you want your father to mull over paroling them? Do you think that they're capable of being turned loose in society? They'll try it again, Samantha."

The silver Collar around his neck gleamed in the kitchen light, and Samantha tried not to stare at it.

Those simple commands. Just to speak the few words would make her life so much easier.

**_And damn her forever more to this hellish existence. The devil you know, Samantha, is better than the devil you don't. _**

"Collar or no collar, they will endeavor to kill you and your family again," George insisted.

"And **_you_**," Samantha reminded him.

"My death would be considered a blessing by many," he retorted dryly, in a dispassionate, crisp tone as though he was discussing the weather. "They were going to kill Austin, Samantha. **_Austin_**. Carson Beckett admitted that he had planned to give Austin a lethal dosage of medication. They were going to kill **_Austin_**, just because he's **_my_** dog."

"He's my dog too," she reminded him.

"No, he's my dog," George protested. He stopped and rubbed his right eye. His voice was first tremulous, and then grew steadier when he continued talking. "He's **_my_** dog. Yes, I know that he loves you more than he does me. But Austin's the only thing in this world that doesn't want me in a shallow grave with a single gunshot to the back of my head. So I **_won't_** let you have him."

"Abby and Hannah?" Samantha questioned.

"When they get older, they'll find out what a monster their father truly is…" was his response. George then looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time in far too long in this nightmare she was living. "And they will hate me just like their mother does, and they will wish that their grandfather had the gumption to execute me like I deserve, instead of granddad accepting my parole just because your father doesn't me escaping from this ungodly mess we're in."

His bleak answer surprised her, and she knocked over her bowl of ice cream. The noise caused Austin to bark, a rather hoarse bark, almost like a seal. George grabbed a towel, began cleaning up the mess she had made when he abruptly stopped in mid-swipe. Austin then ran down the hallway… towards the girls' room.

"What's that sound?" George questioned; the tenor of his voice thoughtful yet perplexed. "I've heard it before…"

The seal like bark continued, and Samantha swiftly realized it wasn't Austin who was barking. No, it was one of the girls. She slid herself off the chair, but George was already barreling down the hallway.

"Sounds like one of the girls has the croup," he informed her quickly. "Go in the bathroom. Turn the shower on, and the sink faucet. You've got to run hot water as the humidity will help her breath."

She wanted to go into the girls' room to see for herself, but someone needed to turn the water on, and the girls were too big for her to carry now.

"**_Hurry_**," she instructed George.

"I am," he retorted.


	16. Chapter 16

Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 16

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: MA – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction. Very Dark fic.

Pairings: Yes. Several M/F/S (Male Female Symbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

We continue with our story. Samantha and George are having a bonding parental moment.

* * *

It was Abby, coughing a seal like bark and crying something fierce. Her sister was stirring, and he didn't want Hannah to wake, so he carefully picked up Abby and began rocking her. Gently and slowly, so not to excite her.

"Easy, girl," he whispered. "It'll be ok."

He grabbed her blanket and a soft bear, and he carried her to the bathroom where he closed the door partially so they could keep an ear out for Hannah. Samantha was already sitting on a chair that she had pulled next to the bathtub. She reached out for Abby, and he shook his head before he sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

"I can get her closer to the steam," he explained as he rocked Abby. She was anxiously clinging to him with an audible inspiratory stridor.

"Give me Abby," Abby's mother protested. "I want my daughter."

"I can get her closer to the steam," George stated firmly. "You're shaking and you're upset. I know you don't trust me with Abby, but she's gonna pick up on your fear, and it's going to upset her. You need to calm down."

"We should call Janet," Samantha insisted. The fear and concern for her daughter's health was obvious in her voice.

"No.. no…let's try the hot steam first," George insisted. "It's almost midnight, and Janet's probably sleeping. I didn't close the door completely so we can hear Hannah if she wakes up.

"Let me hold her," she requested again. "I'm her mother, she needs me."

"I can hold her closer to the steam," he insisted.

"George," she protested. Her voice was tremulous and she was reaching for their daughter.

"You need to calm down," George retorted. His voice was soft and gentle. "Abby's picking up the fact that her momma's scared to death so she's getting all wound up."

"That cough," Samantha protested. "It's so harsh. She might need medication."

"Hot steam will help her," Abby's father insisted as he carefully rocked their daughter. "If it was physically safe, I'd take her outside and walk. The cool night air would help, but it's just not safe. She's got croup; I don't think we need to get Janet up. The girls had croup when they were younger, and Marie and I ended up in the ER one night with Lena. Abby doesn't have it that bad, so let's try the hot steam first."

"Best thing for Abby right now, Samantha, is for you to **_relax_**, and to let Abby settle down. If in fifteen minutes, her cough hasn't improved, we'll call Janet."

"I wish you'd let me hold her, George."

He hesitantly glanced at Samantha; saw first how her light night shirt clung to her, flattering her curves and accentuating her Baby Buddha Belly. Goddamn, he felt so lonely at the moment, as he remembered those few precious moments where he had lost himself in her embrace, where he had pretended that Samantha had actually felt something for him. Yet he had done such horrible, horrible things to her, forever and ever marking his soul as one of the eternally damned. George once again vowed for the time remaining him, he'd try to make amends with Samantha, until the day a vengeful god decided that he'd paid enough of his own blood and soul, and it was finally "George Game Over".

Then he timidly looked at her blue eyes. To his complete unsurprise, the emotions in her deep blue eyes were enough to drown him. Her eyes were full of a depthless concern for the croupy Abby combined with an almost physical abhorrence for the monster that had fathered her children. She wanted him dead, rightfully so, yet Samantha appeared to favor parole for the ones that had wanted to **_murder_** the girls.

"Move your chair over slightly," George suggested. "I'll move over, and you can touch Abby. She needs her mamma's touch, but she's too big for you to easily hold now, Samantha. I'll support her weight and you can hold her also."

It was awkward, his back was already in spasms, but in next to no time he was precariously perched in a new position, supporting their daughter's weight while she rested on her mom's belly. Samantha was gently stroking Abby's hand.

"Hi baby girl, Mama's here, and everything will be just fine," Samantha lovingly whispered.

* * *

Abby was coughing dreadfully and Samantha had wanted and in fact **_still_** wanted to call Janet but George had insisted that a little humidity would help Abby. So that's why the three of them were sitting in the bathroom, while Abby coughed and coughed. Her barking coughing grew less pronounced as time passed.

George was quietly talking to Abby even while he rubbed her back, and Abby was clinging to her. She wasn't crying as hard as she had been, and her eyes were closing even while she held onto her mama's finger with a tight grasp.

"That's it, darling, you go to sleep. My pretty little Abby…" George kept murmuring soft words to Abby about how beautiful she was and what a special little girl Abby was. It was hard to hear what George exactly was saying over the running water, but the agitated Abby was being comforted and soothed by the loving timbre of her daddy's gentle voice.

"She's asleep," George commented softly. "Let's wait a few minutes before we put her to bed."

George continued rubbing his daughter's back slowly, and then he sighed.

"We were having a conversation before this happened. Why **_don't_** you want Weir and her group to hang?"

That question was spoken softly, and Samantha tightened instinctively. She clasped her hands together and placed them over her belly as though that futile gesture would protect Emma and Abby, wishing she knew what to say. To tell George that she had promised Harry Maybourne to use her influence to save Weir's life would lead to further questionings, which in turn would lead to her revealing that she had asked Harry what role her father and George had played in the deaths of SG1. Maybourne had gotten into her safe room, her **_SAFE_** room for the love of God, which meant even that room wasn't safe from her enemies. And what **_would_** Harry do if she didn't follow through on their agreement?

What would he do to her children?

"Hasn't there been enough death, George?" Samantha questioned, carefully keeping her voice low and controlled so Abby wouldn't wake.

"They tried to kill you and your daughters…" George reminded her. "Aren't you angry? Don't you want **_vengeance_**?"

"There's been enough death," Samantha repeated. "Bra'tac… Paul Davis… SG1…"

"I need to find their bodies," her husband answered slowly. "I need to bring them home for a decent burial. I owe O'Neill, Jackson and Teal'c that much."

"You kill Weir, they'll turn in martyrs, like the Jaffa did to Bra'tac," Sam reminded.

"Bra'tac," George sighed. "He attempted over a half a dozen assassination attempts on your father and me. And that's the honest to God truth, not the ramblings of raving lunatic."

Samantha shuddered before she answered slowly, "I didn't know that."

"Yes. We banished him from New Earth because we just couldn't execute him. No matter how far we had diverged on our personal beliefs on what was best for New Earth, I couldn't execute him until he tried to kill you. Tomorrow… no today… when your father asks for your recommendation on Weir's punishment, you will request that they're to be paroled and collared?" His voice was full of his disbelief and his inability to comprehend why she was doing it.

"Yes…" Samantha repeated her decision once more and then paused. She then blurted out, "I want you to tell my father that you believe that they should be paroled also."

George turned and looked at her, plainly disbelieving that he was sitting next to the real Samantha Carter.

"Me? I don't desire them to be paroled, Samantha. They should die because they were going to kill our girls. Is this where you threaten me with never seeing the girls again? So I have to agree or else? I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. I won't see them again as you'll sign those divorce papers… and if I agree with your parole, Weir and her cronies will probably attempt to kill them again. **_Either way, my girls are as good as dead to me_**," his voice cracked as he stressed that final point and Abby began to stir.

Sam inhaled sharply, fearful that she had pressed George too hard. She had been aware of the dangers of using the "stick" on him too often, that at one point, George would no longer respond the way she desired him to in regards to threats of losing visitation with his children.… Now, she had to decide if she was brave enough to offer him a carrot.

"I'm not going to hit you, Samantha," he whispered. "Don't wear that look on your face, girl."

Abby began to whimper, and George began rubbing clockwise circles on his daughter's back again.

"Sssshhhh," George whispered to Abby, "Go back to sleep, pumpkin."

The three of them sat in silence until Abigail, cradled protectively in her mother's arms, had once again drifted off to sleep.

"George," Samantha then gathered her courage before she continued, "… if you recommend to my father to parole them… I'll do anything you want."

"Anything?" Hammond asked, his hoarse voice sounding strained. "You'll do… **_anything_**?"

"I'll even… share your bed… for one night," she whispered. "Willingly. Just not tonight, and please don't hurt Emma."

For a response, he stood up quickly, taking Abby with him, and Abby began to stir.

"Easy girl… easy…. You go back to sleep, darling." George whispered to Abby. He began swaying and rocking Abby before he left the room.

* * *

Good God above, he felt psychically and physically unclean at what Samantha had offered, and his uneasiness was affecting little Abby who was close to waking again. He carefully walked her down the hallway, realizing a few minutes too late that he should have helped Samantha stand, but that would have meant he would have to put his gorilla hands on her fair skin. He needed to put Abby to sleep in her crib, so he could watch her sleep. His daughter seemed fine… now… but croup was funny, and it just might flare up again. There was a rocking chair, and he could sleep there.

He was about to put Abby into her crib when Samantha told him to stop. Then she reached for their daughter and took her from his arms. She cradled Abby awkwardly, resting her daughter partially on her belly.

"I have a crib in my room, and I want to watch her tonight," Samantha insisted. "I can handle this."

"But you need your sleep," he whispered, strongly voicing his complete disagreement. "Someone needs to stay awake all night and observe her. Let me do it."

"We don't want Hannah getting sick," Samantha retorted. "I've got a crib in my room, and I'll watch her."

"I won't be able to help you," he objected. "If she's in your room, I won't be able to keep an eye on Abby."

"Abby and I are going to my room, George," Samantha informed him.

Like the damned, cursed fool that he was, he followed her down the hallway and then she walked into her bedroom. He couldn't cross the threshold; he had promised her that he'd NEVER violate her again, and by the very God that seemed to delight in adding torment upon torment onto his scarred soul, that included her bedroom, so George could only watch as Samantha carried their daughter into her room.

He stood outside the door, heard Samantha humming a lullaby to Abby, and then after a few minutes, the lights in the room dimmed.

What to do?

He needed to be there in case there was a problem with Abby, but he couldn't be in the same room, so he decided to sit on the floor. It would be faster, if he was on his feet, but pacing the hallway would upset Samantha, and rightfully so. George put his back against the wall, and before long, Austin was next to him, the Rottie resting his heavy head in George's lap.

"You were so good to your sister," he assured Austin, as he began stroking the dog's head.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Parole Weir and he could see his daughters.

Disagree with Samantha, and she'd divorce him. He would never see the girls again; never see their first steps, never hear their first words.

But they'd be **_alive_**.

Until the next attempt, or the next one. Sooner or later, one of the Weir lead assassination attempts would be successful.

Either way, his children were as good as dead.

Oh God, what to do?

* * *

Abby was cuddling against her and Samantha gratefully and yet a tad regretfully put her daughter down into the crib.

"You're getting so big," she teased her daughter, even as she stretched her back. "Getting big, just like your mama is."

Samantha then placed her hand against her belly, and rubbed it gently.

"Look, Emma, your mama loves you very, very much, but I do wish that I could skip the forty weeks and pick you out of a catalog," Samantha protested.

Carefully and quietly, she dimmed all the lights in the room, dragged a rocking chair over to where the crib was, and then she returned to her sentry post, watching her daughter sleep. After thirty minutes or so, Abby was still sleeping easily, and Samantha thought it might be ok if she dozed. But first, she wanted to check on Hannah.

Gracelessly, she extricated herself from the rocking chair and she walked out of her room. To her horror, George was standing next to the doorway. He was close to it, but not over the threshold, she noticed. Even Austin was standing behind George, peering upwards toward her.

"Do I need to get Janet? Is Abby ok? Is there a problem?" He questioned; his voice was full of concern for their daughter. "I heard you get up, and I was worried you might need help?"

"What are you doing here?" Samantha retorted. "You're pretty damn close to the No Fly Zone, George."

"I'm not in your room," George explained quickly, the words falling over his tongue. "I'm not… I'm not… I'm… I wasn't anywhere near your room… I was on the opposite side of the hallway… I wanted to be close in case you needed help. I didn't go into your room."

He was holding his hands up and out, as though he was trying to prove that he was weaponless, and Samantha tried not to shake. In spite of what cruelties he had inflicted on her, George had never ever been less than a loving, devoted father to his girls. Well, his concern was apparently was for only the girls that were out of the oven, that is. George never asked about Emma when she went solo to her prenatal exams. He never asked, and she never told.

Her conscience nudged her firmly in her ribs, and tsk'd tsk'd her for being cruel.

"_I was hoping you'd let me know if everything was ok with her," George said softly. "I really wanted to go with you to your checkups… but I thought… you lying on your back with me standing over you…it wouldn't be a good thing…"_

_"I thought that experience would be exceptionally traumatic for you and Emma. I wanted to question Janet, but I figured you had told her not to let me know anything. I told you that in this situation, you make the rules, and I'll follow them."_

"Is Abby ok?" George quickly questioned. "Should I call Janet?"

"She's sleeping; I wanted to check on Hannah," Samantha explained.

George sighed, and she saw how his broad shoulders seemed to relax.

"Thank God," he whispered.

She ignored him, not having the energy to deal with him right now, and she checked on Hannah. Her daughter was sleeping soundly, and Samantha sternly warned herself NOT to stroke Hannah's hair and to be content with just watching her daughter breath.

God above, how she **_loved _**her daughters.

* * *

George settled back down in the hallway, his back resting against the wall, within hearing range of Abby, and he closed his eyes. God damn, he was too old to be sleeping in the hallway, he thought as he massaged his aching head. The floorboards creaked and he kept his eyes shut. If it was another assassination attempt, he'd thank them with his dying breath.

The floorboards stopped creaking. If the death blow came, he'd take it like a man he once had been, not the shattered wreck he was now.

"Are you sleeping in the hallway?" Samantha questioned, her voice cracking like a whip.

"I'm attempting to **_sleep_** in the hallway," he glibly commented.

The floorboards creaked as Samantha walked away from him. He stretched for a bit, trying to find a comfortable spot. He couldn't find a comfy position, as his joints were too damn stiff, but he **_needed_** to be there just in case. After a few minutes of unsuccessful positioning and repositioning, he was hit in the face by something big and soft, which was followed by something else.

He gingerly opened his eyes, and Samantha was already strategically retreating back into her room. She had thrown one of her pillows and an afghan at him.

"Least have a blanket and a pillow," she said.

"Thank you," he softly responded.

"I didn't do it for you," Samantha informed him. "I did it for…"

"**_Abby_**," the two of them said together.

His quick response seemed to disturb Samantha, and she crossed her arms in front of her. It was a defensive gesture, and he tiredly nodded his head.

"I didn't think that you did it for me," George assured her.

"Just you keep remembering that," she ordered before she returned to the safety of her bed.

* * *

The next morning after a far too long sleepless night, she blearily stared at her father. Chekov, George, Janet and her father were in a private room about to discuss the sentencing options for Weir's insurrectionists.

"We can reschedule the sentencing if you're not up to it, Sammy," her father assured her. "Janet says both girls are fine, so you don't have to worry. Just go back to bed, and get some sleep."

"No," Samantha insisted. "Let's get it over and done."

"Agreed," Chekov inserted. "It's been dragging on for too long. Try them, convict them and sentence them. Delays just rile up their supporters."

Her father sighed, and shook his head.

"Weir and her cronies admitted that they were trying to overthrow the government. They admit to seven attempted murder charges, that being Janet, Samantha, Greg, Abigail, Hannah and Malcolm. They also pleaded guilty to plotting the death of the two unborn babies."

Jacob nodded his head and then Selmak spoke.

"The six of us each have one vote. The vote for death has to be unanimous. If there is a lone dissenting vote, we will discuss the situation until it's unanimous." Selmak's voice was then emotionless as she announced her decision. "Death by firing squad."

"Agreed," her father said. "Janet?"

"Line them up and shoot them," Janet said firmly. "Give me a gun, and I'll do it myself."

"Samantha…?"

She swallowed twice, wishing she knew whether she had any support on this matter. Harry Maybourne's face appeared in her mind, and she remembered that ungodly fear when she realized that he had gotten into her private room to leave her a message. He wanted Weir and her group paroled… and to save her children from what he might do… she'd agree. It had to unanimous for death, but she needed George's support so she wasn't the lone dissenting voice.

"Collar them or freeze them. **_Don't_** kill them." Her voice was low when she finally decided to speak.

Janet nearly tumbled out of her chair in her complete disbelief that Sam didn't want them strung up by their short hairs. She was about to voice her protest, when her husband, Jacob, got in the first word.

"**_What_**?" Jacob questioned. He pushed his chair away from the table, and stood up. "You want them **_paroled_**? Chekov?"

The Russian was heavily graying; his face an unhealthy pallor, but his deep voice was still steady.

"I agree," Chekov inserted quickly. "Parole them. We need their skills. Keep them heavily guarded, but don't kill them."

"**_Parole_**? Chekov, they tried to poison you with rat poison! Chekov! What are you thinking? They…." Jacob paused as though he came close to letting something slip, and then he continued.

"They tried to kill my wife! They were going to murder my daughter! I can not believe this!" Jacob Carter turned to face George and he roughly demanded, "What's your vote?"

Samantha also turned to face Hammond, wondering how he would vote.

"Parole," George's voice was firm when he finally voted, and she nearly gasped.

"Samantha has made her reasons clear to me why she believes parole is in our best opinion. We can't afford to lose Beckett and we can't lose McKay, though God knows I wish the man came with a mute button."

"Are you **_crazy_**?" Jacob spat that comment at George.

There was a long moment of dead silence as everyone remembered all too well that George had been in five point restraints in the not so distance past and then George barked a loud laugh. Chekov gave out a sigh of relief, and Samantha stared in amazement, as George continued to laugh.

"I was… but I'm feeling **_much_** better now with those daily injections," he drawled. "Much, **_much_** better..."

And he continued to laugh.

* * *

The announcement that Weir, Beckett, McKay and the rest of their team had been paroled came as a shock to everyone, including Carson Beckett. The doctor collapsed into his chair after he was sentenced. The Scot was so busy trying to comprehend that he wasn't on death row that the announcement that he was to be collared and placed on the strictest parole appeared not to faze him in the slightest.

Not so Elizabeth Weir, John Sheppard, Aiden Ford and Rodney McKay. In spite of being held by two Super Soliders, Elizabeth Weir fought like a wild cat, successfully kneeing one in his cod piece, hooking her hand around another's mask even while the others struggled in vain.

"Subdue them," Chekov ordered the guards, and each rebel was shot once with a zat.

He walked over to the prone figures and then collared them. He did it quickly and efficiently, with a scowl as though he was touching something unclean. When he was done, Chekov quickly wiped his hands on his jacket.

"Take them to the tank, they'll need a complete set of biometrics run and to be indoctrinated with the Collar philosophy of life," Jacob snapped. "George, you care to give them Collar 101 and tell them what joys to expect when they're collared?"

Samantha first looked at her father and then George. The two men were formerly the closest of friends, but there was a schism that had formed between them that had first developed when she had been attacked. It had been compounded with interest when her father had nearly killed George, but now, now it seemed her father enjoyed verbally wounding George, and George was giving it back just as hard.

George sardonically saluted Jacob, and for a moment the two men just stared at each other. They reminded her of nothing more than two pit bulls staring each other down, debating whether or not to attack the other.

"Aye, Aye, Sir! Greg, please make sure Samantha has lunch as she's looking pale. Take a few super soldiers to guard you, as I'll be busy teaching collar-garten."

* * *

"Greg," Samantha pleaded, as Chekov was rummaging through her kitchen closets to find something to make for lunch, "No turnip borscht, please."

The Russian chuckled, and swore that there would no turnips for lunch.

"You don't even have any turnips," he retorted.

"Thought you might find some," she snapped.

That caused Chekov to laugh heartily, and Samantha wondered what the HELL they were putting in the water today as everyone appeared to be in quite the good mood. No doubt because she was six months pregnant, she couldn't get any of the good stuff. After a few minutes of Chekov rattling around in the kitchen, he cheerily presented her with a grilled cheese with tomato sandwich on sourdough and a side of potato chips.

"So, you get to baby-sit me today?" Samantha questioned tartly.

That earned another rumbling bark of a laugh from the normally rather stolid Russian.

"Greg," Samantha asked slowly. She needed to be careful asking him what she wanted, and so was feeling him out slowly.

"Eat," he insisted. "While it's still warm. Your daughter will be happier if it's eaten warm."

"Why did you agree to parole Weir and her friends? What made you decide that they were paroleable?

He put down his sandwich and finished chewing before he spoke.

"I think they should have been strung up and hung," Greg stated calmly. "I don't think they're trustworthy. They'll get together and try to destabilize the government again, as they can't seem to wrap their peacenik minds around the fact that the tattered remains of humanity are only inches from being completely and utterly annihilated. I can't blame them; you Americans had it easy; you did not have any similar carnage to the Siege of Leningrad in your history. We lost over **_a million and half_** people in twenty eight month period. Over a million civilians died from starvation…My people refused to roll over and die for the Nazis. Fighting, it was our only chance for victory against the Nazis, because sometimes, peace is just another word for surrender."

"I don't understand why you didn't vote for the death penalty then," Samantha admitted.

Chekov laughed again, and she shook her head in disbelief at his jovial mood.

"I have no noble reason for doing so," he admitted. "In fact, the reason why I voted for parole is simple. When they poisoned me, they added a little bonus due to an unexpected chemical reaction. It wasn't just rat poisoning…"

"Greg?" Samantha questioned.

"I have heavy metal poisoning. Cadium and a few others are in my system. I, at the most, have three to four months to live as my internal organs are shot. The healing devices, at best, only give me a modicum of relief from the pain. For obvious reasons, I **_refuse_** to get into a sarcophagus."

"Oh God, Greg," she protested.

"So, as you see, I am not being compassionate. I'm being a realist. I don't want them being executed because their deaths would merely be an easy escape from this hellish reality. I want them to pay… and continue to pay for what they've done. Besides, I have enough blood on my hands to explain to St. Peter. He may not let me enter."

"Do they know?" Samantha whispered. "My father… George?"

He nodded his head and gave her a crooked smile.

"Yes, we've known for some time. I have gotten my affairs in order, and I am content," Chekov admitted. "I'll be meeting my Kisa soon."

She couldn't help it, Samantha started to cry. Blaming the reaction on her hormones was a ready excuse, but Samantha knew she was lying. In all honesty, Samantha had never been particularly fond of Chekov, nor had she trusted him during her SG1 days, as she always known and accepted that he'd make his decisions on what favored his country. But now, he was one of the few remaining pieces of a life that she was slowly and surely forgetting that it had existed, rather than fragmented daydreams.

A time when every day was full of adventure…. And hope.

Chekov's level-headedness and ability to cushion the sparks between her father and George had been a godsend these past few months and Samantha felt overwhelming lost at the prospect of losing that buffer.

"But your father and George have agreed to give me one final assignment. I will find SG1. I will bring their bodies home, and they will be buried here."

The Russian paused, and then he started laughing.

"What?" Samantha questioned. She couldn't understand why Chekov was so damn cheery.

"I have to remind George not to bury me next to O'Neill. He never liked me and I think I deserve a restful sleep after all this."

* * *

George came home late, after teaching Weir and her groupies the joys of being collared. He had warned them, that they'd be closely monitored, who they spoke with, who they didn't speak with, would be duly noted. Being less than charitable as after all, they HAD tried to kill his family, he didn't warn them about some of the side effects of the collars. Let them discover firsthand the exquisite joy of when the collar reset itself every 24 hours as part of its daily maintenance. Since a collar was wired to have a 'symbiotic relationship' with its wearer, he'd bet that they'd scream off their fool heads because of the pain that the reset caused.

McKay would probably soil himself and cry for his mamma.

He had given them the information on what code words would strangle them, what would release the collar from that command, and he had cautioned them, NOT to try and remove the collar. For good measure, he had shown them a few pictures of people who had tried to remove it. Perhaps people wasn't the right word, the remains of the people was the better word.

Since it was so late, he just checked on the girls quickly, to make sure that they were sleeping, and then he went to his bed. To his surprise, Samantha was in his bed.

She was awake… and Samantha was trembling.

"What are you doing in my bed?" George questioned.

It was pretty damn apparent what she was doing but he needed a few minutes to get his thoughts collected.

"We had an agreement," she whispered softly. "I'm here to fulfill my side."

He felt like laughing, he felt like crying, he felt like screaming. A thousand and one different emotions ran through his head and he couldn't help but bitterly laugh.

"There was no accord," growled George. "You have me over the damn barrel. I have to agree with everything you want **_else_** I'll never see my girls again. You are going to get our daughters **_killed_** because of your foolish, **_naive_** insistence on paroling Weir and the rest. And I agreed with your decision, only because I'll have a few more hours with the girls."

"If I was a good Dad, a decent man, I'd have disagreed, taken the divorce settlement and walked the hell out of here. I'd never see the girls again, but I'd know that they were alive. But I can't let them go. I can't imagine counting down the days until Emma's due date, and wondering if she's been born. I couldn't live like that… and yet I'd have to… so I could keep our girls safe…"

"I admit that I'm a lousy father and a horrible husband. I confess before the entire universe that I have done things to you that I will never be able to forgive myself. But in spite of the fact I am certifiably insane… I know that what you're offering… is so repulsive an offer and yet so damn tempting that I can not accept it. I will not go that path of self-destruction once more. I **_refuse_** to …"

George inhaled quickly, and then he walked out of the room towards the living room. It would be a long, restless night on the couch, but he didn't trust himself to speak further to Samantha. Because sure as God made little green apples and Rotties by the name of Austin; he knew that he would break down into tears and ask her why she was pushing him so hard to another breakdown.

His hands were shaking, his heart was breaking, and he began to obsessively and compulsively recite the Golden Rules of Sanity.

**_Rule of Sanity #1 – there was no redemption for someone like him. No one cared for him. Everyone viewed him as the scarred freakish monster he truly was. They'd dance a jig if he was assassinated, yet he had to stay alive, because without him, Samantha, Abigail, Hannah, Emma… they'd be slaughtered. Not even Austin would escape the butcher's knife, because Austin had proven his loyalty to him over and over again on the bodies of the insurgents._**

* * *

Samantha lay in George's bed and she was stunned.

"I've just been turned down…" she whispered to herself. _By the very man that forced himself on me six months ago._ _Of course, I was thinner and more attractive then…_

_Please, I'm in such a state of denial! I had my soft and saggy new mommy body and my leaking new mommy boobs. _

_Rape is an act of anger and violence, fury and rage. It's the result of being controlled by those emotions and the insane desire to take it out on someone smaller and weaker than you are. I angered and deeply upset him tonight. Not just tonight, but several other times, I've pushed him as far as I dared… and George kept his temper in check for the most part and he walked away._

_He's not the same man he was six months ago. But he's not the man who once was my CO._

_Who the hell are you, George Hammond? What the hell type of man are you **now**? And what type of man are you turning into?_

Carefully, she got out of his bed, and she put on her robe. Sam walked out to the darkened living room, and she saw him on the couch. George was muttering to himself, and he was rubbing the left side of his face compulsively. She couldn't see his face in the dark, but Samantha could just imagine how raw and abraded it was from that obsessive ritual.

"George, let me get some antiseptic for your face," she offered.

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

She ignored him, and went to the bathroom where she scavenged for assorted first aid supplies. That done, Sam took a deep breath, and tried to settle her nerves before she dealt with George once more. Times like this she wished she wasn't pregnant, as she could use a shot or two of liquid courage.

Her nerves steadied, she returned to the room, and she sat next to him on the couch.

"No, you just leave the supplies there, I'll take care of it myself," George whispered. "It's not that bad. You go to bed as you need your sleep."

"Hammond, let me put this ointment on your face," she retorted. "You don't give me orders, remember?"

Opening the tube of ointment quickly, she spread some of it on her fingers. She began dabbing it on his face, and George sighed softly.

"Did that hurt?" She questioned. "I'm sorry… if I hurt you."

She meant that apology to cover more than just the sting from the first aid ointment.

"You have gentle hands," he assured her. "Soothing my pain away. Thank you."

"I'm still scared of you," Samantha blurted that out. "Even with the collar. I am still fearful… of your temper."

"Of me," he said simply. "You have every right to be."

"Tonight, I was in your bed because…."

"I know why you were there. You don't have the upper hand in our little card game; you own all the damn cards, Samantha. Don't offer your body to me," he protested. "Don't cheapen yourself. It rubs my soul raw to see that…"

"No…" Samantha protested. "I think you actually rubbed your face raw."

A tired grimace of a smile was his only response to her quip. She continued to dab at his face, and then she recapped the ointment bottle and placed it on the table. Then she took his unresisting hand and placed it on her belly. Emma was active at the moment, moving and kicking, and his face lit up when he felt Emma's gyrations beneath his hands.

"Tonight, have this," she whispered. "You're right. I don't think you at my prenatal exams would be a good idea. It would be… upsetting… to have you there."

"Will you tell me how's she doing at least? Please? I really want to know," he pleaded.

"Yes," Samantha agreed. "I can do that much for you."

* * *

Epilogue #1:

Three months later.

Greg Chekov sat in the command chair of the Korolev, and he gestured with his fingers. He was in good spirits, resulting from a mission that had been successful and well-run.

"Make it so," he ordered.

The Kirk-like effect for which he was aiming was ruined completely by a powerful, wracking fit of coughing. When the hacking finally ceased, he wiped the blood from his mouth, and then rubbed his aching chest. Carson Beckett, the silver collar of the Condemmed gleaming against his neck, was hovering next to him and the Scottish doctor began scolding him, insisting on another return to the Korolev's infirmary immediately.

He sounded nothing more than a Scottish mother hen chastising one of her chicks.

"Shepard, you have command of the Korolev," Chekov announced.

Shepard turned to face him and Chekov gave him a long look until Shepard wiped the insolent look off his face.

"If I die before this mission is accomplished, you two will not live more than five minutes longer than I do," Chekov reminded the two men.

Chekov dutifully reminded the 'volunteers' of that little tidbit every morning during their 'staff meeting'.

The coughing started again, and Chekov helplessly doubled over from the agonizing, ripping pain.

"We need to get you to the infirmary," insisted Beckett. He was waving something over him, and the Scottish doctor turned to Shepard for support. "His 02 sats are dangerously low. He's in danger of imminent respiratory arrest."

He protested, but the two men manhandled him, pushing, prodding and half-carrying him and he found himself in the all-too familiar infirmary, lying on a med bed. Beckett rapidly administered an O2 treatment complete with a nebulizer, and Chekov pulled it away from his face. Beckett hissed in frustration, and pushed it back on his patient's face.

Using the last of his energy, Chekov pulled the mask off his face, and grabbed Beckett's shirt.

"Why the hell should I **_trust_** you? You did **_this_** to me," Chekov spat.

His physical strength spent, Greg closed his eyes, focusing only on the tremendous effort it took to breath. Each gasp was pain akin to walking on fire. So close, and yet he knew that he wouldn't be able to see his mission complete. Much like Pheidippides, he had put everything into the marathon of his life, and he **_knew_** that he'd collapse and die before he reached the Finish Line.

_I couldn't die, not yet! I had found them, and I needed to bring them home! Damn you, Beckett! Damn you Shepard for doing this to me!_

"John, I need the blue medication and a syringe." Beckett's voice was calm and Chekov knew he was in a hell of a lot of trouble.

Darkness crashed down and he knew no more.

* * *

"Did you stabilize him?" Shepard questioned Beckett. The former USAF officer turned resistance fighter had gone gray over the years, but his unruly hair was still had a mind of its own.

"As best as I could," Beckett admitted. "He's a very ill man."

Shepard groaned and walked toward Beckett. John then uneasily looked at the dying man who was in a medically induced coma.

"And do I need to remind you, if we lose him, we're dead, Doc?" John retorted. He then grimaced at Beckett, and apologized. "I know you're quite aware of it."

"He needs to be put in a pod," Beckett explained. "He will not live to see New Earth otherwise."

"It would be a shame for us to have completed our mission and then blow up right outside New Earth's fly zone just because Chekov kicks the bucket," Shepard dryly commented.

"Enough," Beckett snapped. "I went along with you and Elizabeth. Against my better judgment I did, and therefore I'm responsible for what happened to him. I need your help to put him a pod and hopefully the system that's monitoring him will accept his suppressed life signs. If not, everything will come to a quick and fiery end."

* * *

The two men 'podded' Chekov and then hooked the pod's connector to the life support. They held their breaths, expecting their subterfuge to be discovered and the game 'reset'.

"Five minutes, John?" Beckette questioned in a very quiet voice.

"Yes, Chekov said that if we killed him, we'd be dead within five minutes as the life support on the ship would be shut off, including the pods."

"It's been six minutes, at least." Beckett then checked the life support monitor. "He's still alive, but barely."

John put his hand on one of the occupied pods and looked at Beckett.

"Any idea which one this is? They all look the same to me."

Beckett shook his head at Shepard's failed attempt at humor, and then checked the battered pod. The face plate was dark and he couldn't view the man inside the pod. He checked the monitor, and then he was able to determine who lay in deep slumber in the pod.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill," he answered.

"Welcome home, Colonel, " Shepard dryly commented. "You'll find that not much has changed since you left."

* * *

Epilogue #2:

As it was to be expected, Janet soon delivered a healthy and loudly screaming Martin Lance Carter-Fraiser. After Martin had been cleaned up and made presentable for viewing, Samantha found herself carefully holding the newborn baby in her arms, and she marveled at the tiny life. Thick curly eyelashes, a mop of unruly hair and his mother's eyes.

"He's…_perfect_… Janet," she informed her friend.

Janet wiped her sweaty hair away from her brow, and she happily grinned as Jacob took Marty back from Samantha before handing him to his wife.

"And he's the **_last_** baby I'm having!" Janet cooed cheerfully to Marty. "Though you're really beautiful."

After a suitable time spent admiring the sleeping newborn, Samantha and George returned to their apartment. She then carefully prepared a nice, warm bath for soaking, not too hot, not too cold and was about to undress and gingerly place herself into the tub when she realized that she was bleeding.

Somehow she managed to make it back to her bed, though the distance had become far longer than its norm and Samantha tried to stay calm.

"George…" she called softly, willing herself not to panic. She called again louder when she began to cramp and then she heard him at the door. "I'm bleeding. I need help…George… Emma… Oh God… Emma…You're too early."


End file.
